GIFT  ©F 
Prof.    C.A,   Kofoid 


DONNA  MARIA 


1886. 


THE     SERENADE 


GEORGE  DE--  V  YORK 

1836. 


SCENES   IN  SPAIN. 


J'ai  toujours  cru  qu'il  faut  descendre  dans  les  classes  infSrieures  pour 
connqitre  les  yeritables  moeurs  d'un  pays,  parceque  chiles  des  riches 
sont  partout  les  memes. — ROUSSEAU. 


NEW. YORK: 

GEORGE  DEARBORN,   38   GOLD-STREET 

1837. 


S37 


/ 


[Entered  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress  of  the  United  States  of 
America,  in  the  year  1837,  by  GEORGE  DEARBORN,  in  the  Clerk's 
Office  of  the  Southern  District  of  New- York.] 


NEW- YORK: 

Printed  by  SCA.TCHERD  &  ADAMS, 
No.  38  Gold  Street. 


PREFACE. 


THE  following  brief  sketch  of  the  Writer's 
visit  to  Spain  in  the  Summer  of  1831  was 
prepared  for  the  press  soon  after  his  return 
to  his  native  country.  Various  circumstances 
have  delayed  its  publication,  until  the  period 
to  which  it  refers  has  become  a  sufficiently 
remote  one.  The  political  condition  of  Spain 
is  altered,  and  she  has  passed  from  the  tyran- 
ny of  despotism  to  the  worse  tyranny  of  anar- 
chy. Notwithstanding  all  these  changes,  the 
manners  of  the  people  have,  doubtless,  under- 
gone little  if  any  alteration :  and  the  slight 
and  passing  pictures  of  life  here  given,  such  as 
the  writer  traced  them  on  the  spot,  would 
perhaps  still  portray  with  equal  fidelity  the 
customs  of  a  country,  which,  in  the  midst 
of  revolutions,  remains  in  so  many  respects 
the  same. 

New  Orleans,  1836. 

M1G1984: 


SCENES   IN   SPAIN 


CHAP.   I. 

THE    BAY    OF    GIBRALTAR. 

I  HAD  passed  a  bright  June  day  in  rambling  over 
the  wild  rock  of  Gibraltar,  that  singular  land-mark 
which  nature  has  reared  from  the  bosom  of.  the 
water  to  mark  the  southern  boundary  of  Europe, 
and  which  in  the  olden  time  was  regarded  as  the 
consecrated  limit  of  the  habitable  world.  -  Beyond, 
as  was  supposed,  rolled  a  wide  waste  of  waters,  to 
explore  whose  trackless  expanse  would  have  been 
deemed  an  act  of  blind  and  fruitless  desperation. 
While  I  looked  with  wonder  on  this  bold  work  of 
nature,  I  explored,  too,  with  curious  surprise,  the 
efforts  of  human  labour,  where  the  cunning  hand  of 
man  had  dug  into  the  bowels  of  that  huge  barrier  of 

1 


6  SCENES  IN  SPAIN. 

rock,  and  planted  within  its  gloomy  caverns  the  ter- 
rtble  .eugixiOs  ;o£  .destruction  and  death. 

TUt;  full  orb; 'of 'the  sun  was  fast  descending, 
to  hide  itself  beyond  the  rugged  hills  of  Europe 
and  Africa,  as  they  lay  blended  together  in  the 
direction  of  the  Straits,  brightening  the  sails  of 
the  ships  that  were  seen  in  every  direction  on  the 
surrounding  waters,  flashing  upon  the  oars  of  the 
humbler  boats  and  wherries  that  were  plying  in  the 
harbour,  and  illuminating,  with  a  mellow  light,  the 
bosom  of  the  sea.  Far  away  in  the  distance,  and 
just  opposite  the  little  town  of  Algesiras,  one  could 
descry  the  black  hull  and  tall  masts  of  an  American 
frigate,  in  which  I  had  a  few  days  before  arrived  in 
the  bay  of  Gibraltar.  On  the  morrow  I  was  to 
start  with  a  party  of  her  officers  on  an  excursion  to 
the  mountain  village  of  Rotida,  and  I  now  hastened 
to  the  harbour  for  fear  of  being  locked  up  in  the  town 
for  the  night,  and  thus  losing  all  the  promised  plea- 
sure of  an  amusing  journey  with  gay  companions- 
When  the  hour  of  sunset  is  announced  by  the  thun- 
der of  a  single  gun  from  the  summit  of  the  Rock, 
the  drawbridge  is  raised  by  the  watchful  warder,  the 
sturdy  iron-bound  gates  are  closed  ;  and  while  those 


THE    FORTRESS.  O 

who  are  within  the  town  must  stay  there,  such  un- 
lucky people  as  are  caught  without  must  wait  pa- 
tiently till  the  rising  of  the  sun  is  announced  by  the 
same  loud-toned  herald. 

I  found  the  quay  near  the  city  gate  crowded,  as 
usual,  with  a  motley  throng  of  all  nations  and  tongues ; 
turbaned  Turks,  dirty,  bare-legged  Jews,  Catalans 
with  red  woollen  caps,  stingy  little  jackets,  and  trow- 
sers  up  to  their  arm-pits;  broad-faced  Dutchmen, 
and  hale,  hearty  Britons.  A  Highland  centinel,  in 
kilt  and  tartan,  and  plumed  bonnet,  moved  slowly  up 
and  down  near  the  drawbridge,  stopping  at  intervals 
to  present  arms  to  some  passing  officer;  while  beside 
the  quay,  among  a  crowd  of  boats  of  all  shapes  and 
fashions,  lay  a  barge,  in  whose  comely  proportions, 
and  in  the  blue-collared  shirts,  duck  trowsers,  and 
low  tarpaulin  hats  of  the  stout  crew  that  manned 
it,  I  recognized  a  boat  from  the  American  frigate. 
One  by  one  the  officers  for  whom  she  was  waiting 
came  hurrying  over  the  drawbridge,  and  the  last 
loiterer  had  scarce  arrived,  when  a  flash  from  the  rug- 
ged summit  of  the  Rock  announced  the  setting  of  the 
sun.  The  drawbridge  was  presently  raised,  and  the 
.sturdy  gates  of  the  city  swung  heavily  together.  A 


4  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

pennant  sent  down  from  the  main-mast  Iread,  and 
the  roll  of  a  drum  which  died  away  in  an  echo  from 
the  rocky  cliffs,  showed  that  the  hour  was  noted 
with  equal  punctuality  by  a  man-of-war  that  lay  in 
the  harbour.  Of  the  warlike  inmates  of  the  impreg- 
nable fortress  no  one  was  now  to  be  seen,  except 
here  and  there  a  sentry  upon  the  ramparts,  who,  with 
the  mechanical  precision  of  an  automaton,  paced 
slowly  uy  and  down  the  limits  of  his,  beat. 

Our  crowded  boat  presently  shoved  off,  and  my 
companions  whiled  away  the  time  of  our  passage 
across  the  bay  with  detailing  the  adventures  of  their 
day  ashore.  Many  a  joke  went  round  among  these 
light-hearted  sons  of  Mars  and  Neptune,  which  was 
received  with  a  due  tribute  of  laughter  by  all,  ex- 
cept the  little  midshipman  in  command  of  the  boat, 
the  hardy  Jack  tars  who  manned  her,  and  the  broad 
shouldered ,  big  whiskered  coxswain  who  sat  perched 
in  the  stern  high  above  the  rest,  his  right  hand  on 
the  tiller,  and  his  keen  gray  eye  steadily  fixed  upon 
the  distant  frigate,  whose  form  was  now  becoming 
less  distinct  on  the  horizon.  The  gathering  shades 
of  evening  presently  obscured  her  entirely ;  even 
the  huge  mountain  of  rock  we  were  leaving 


THE    FRIGATE. 


behind  grew  more  and  more  dim  in  the  twilight ; 
and  as  its  frowning  form  gradually  disappeared,  the 
lights  began  to  tremble  here  and  there  in  the  little 
town  that  lies  crouching  at  its  base. 

It  is  a  long  pull  across  the  bay  of  Gibraltar,  and 
an  hour  or  two  elapsed  ere  we  neared  the  shores  of 
Algesiras.  When  the  dark  hull  of  the  frigate  became 
dimly  visible,  the  boat's  crew,  at  the  stern  cormnand 
of  the  senior  officer,  "  Give  way  now,  \ff  lads  1" 
cheerily  quickened  their  stroke,  and  each  plunge  of 
the  oars  in  the  sparkling  water  brought  them  nearer 
to  their  floating  home.  The  black  mass  of  her 
wooden  walls  now  rose  more  distinctly  on  the  evening 
sky  ;  and  at  length  the  tall  masts,  the  well-squared 
yards,  and  the  tracery  of  her  rigging,  were  visible. 
Presently  we  were  hailed  by  a  deep-toned  but  clear 
voice  from  the  ship ;  the  hail  was  shrilly  answered 
by  the  midshipman.  In  the  next  moment,  as  we 
carne  alongside,  a  lantern  appeared  on  either  side  of 
the  gangway,  held  by  two  little  side  boys,  clad  in 
round  jackets,  tarpaulin  hats,  ample  trowsers  of 
duck,  and  canvass  slippers  ;  Jack  tars  in  miniature 
Each  officer  ascended  the  side  in  the  order  of  his 
rank,  noticing  for  a  moment  the  etiquette  of  the  pro- 
1* 


6  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

fession,  which  was  presently  forgotten  as  they  gain- 
ed the  precincts  of  the  ward-room. 

Here  their  messmates  were  anxiously  overhauling 
a  letter  bag,  brought  from  their  far-off  country  by  a 
vessel  just  arrived.  The  letters  were  placed  upon 
the  mess-table,  those  harbingers  of  joy  or  sorrow  from 
parents  and  friends,  wives  and  sweethearts,  from 
whom 'they  had  long  been  separated  by  the  wide  At- 
lantic. ^Each  was  anxiously  hunting  for  his  own 
share  in  the  spoils  of  the  emptied  mail-bag,  running 
over  the  various  superscriptions  with  greedy  eyes, 
to  detect,  among  the  promiscuous  heap,  the  familiar 
hand-writing  of  his  own  absent  friends.  Those  who 
found  them  hied  away  to  the  privacy  of  their  ca- 
bins, to  con  over  those  long-expected  pledges  of  af- 
tionate  remembrance ;  while  the  disappointed  shrug- 
ged their  shoulders  with  an  air  of  blended  dissatis- 
faction and  anxiety. 

Next  came  the  task  of  preparing  for  the  morrow's 
journey.  The  gunner  was  summoned  to  furnish  a 
brace  of  pistols  for  each  traveller,  with  a  due  allow- 
ance of  ball  and  powder.  "  Look  well  to  the  flints," 
said  one  of  our  comrades,  "for  we  want  no  child's 
play  with  thtf4and  pirates."  A  draft  was  also  made 


HE    CARAVAN.  / 

on  the  steward  of  the  mess  for  a  sturdy  Virginia  ham 
and  good  store  of  biscuit  to  stay  our  stomachs  by  the 
way-side.  We  had  read  in  Don  Quixote  that  Spa- 
nish inns  are  more  bountifully  supplied  with  fleas 
than  fodder ;  and  besides,  one  of  our  number  had 
sojourned  "  A  year  in  Spain,"  and  had  spied  out  for 
himself  the  nakedness  of  the  land. 

When  all  these  prudent  arrangements  were  made, 
we  sought,  at  a  late  hour,  a  short  repose  from  the  fa- 
tigue of  a  day  ashore,  with  mutual  promises  to  be 
tip  at  the  first  tap  of  the  drum  for  reveille  in  the  morn- 
ing. 

"  God's  blessing,"  said  Sancho  Panza,  "  be  upon  the 
man  who  first  invented  that  self-same  thing  called 
sleep,  for  it  covers  a  man  all  over  like  a  cloak." 


CHAP.    II. 

THE    CARAVAN. 

As  our  little  party,  followed  by  a  half  dozen  sail- 

^  ors  bearing  our  baggage  and  stores  of  provender,  with 

a  score  of  ugly  looking  boarding  pistols,  wound  their 

way  to  the  Inn  of  the  Four  Nations  of  Algesiras, 

many  a  head  was  thrust  out  at  the  doorways,  and 


8  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

many  a  black  eye  peeped  through  lattice  and  bal- 
cony, to  scan  us  as  we  passed.  Algesiras  is  a  quiet, 
sleepy  little  town,  though  it  lies  so  favourably  for 
commerce  on  the  sea-shore,  and  at  the  entrance  of 
the  Straits.  Had  we  made  our  appearance  in  the 
same  way  at  Gibraltar,  on  the  other  side  of  the  bay, 
not  a  man,  woman,  or  child  would  have  care.d  a 
fig's  end  about  us  ;  but  here  the  muleteer  stopped  be- 
labouring his  long-eared  charge,  and  leant  on  his 
staff  as  we  went  by;  the  water  carrier  ceased  his 
lazy  nasal  cry  of  "agua!  agua  !"  the  cobler  laid  down 
his  lap-stone  and  hied  to  the  porch,  hammer  in  hand  ; 
while  his  neighbour,  the  barber,  he  at  the  sign  of  the 
bleeding  leg  and  the  brazen  basin,  hushed  his  segui- 
dilla  and  the  scratching  of  his  guitar,  to  note  with 
professional  inquisitiveness  the  passing  strangers. 

One  Manuel  Franco,  a  Cosario  of  Algesiras,  had 
engaged  to  furnish  horses  for  our  party,  and  to  act 
as  our  guide  to  Ronda.  At  the  appointed  hour,  he 
made  his  appearance  with  some  eight  or  nine  horses, 
a  pair  of  mules,  and  three  hardy  Andalusians,  with 
carabines  in  their  hands ,  who  were  to  serve  as  our  * 
escort.  The  horses  did  not  make  a  very  gallant 
show,  being  raw-boned  beasts  with  shaggy,  uncomb- 


THE    COLLIER.  VJ 

ed  manes  and  tails3  and  rudely  accoutred  with  clumsy 
Moorish  saddles.  'Tis  true  Don  Manuel  had  taken 
better  care  of  one  of  our  party,  who  had  made  the 
bargain  with  him,  and  for  whom  he  had  prepared  a 
white  charger,  that  had  once  belonged  to  the  chief  of 
a  band  of  contrabandistas.  He  was  an  animal  of 
very  efficient  and  respectable  figure,  and  his  saddle 
was  garnished  with  a  pair  of  old-fashioned  holsters ; 
whereas  the  rest  of  us  were  obliged  to  secure  our 
pistols  to  the  saddle-bow  with  pieces  of  pack-thread. 
To  my  own  lot  fell  one  of  the  mules,  a  thin  legged  lit- 
tle animal,  low  in  stature  and  of  a  sooty  colour,  from 
which  he  had  got  the  name  of  Carbonero,  or  the 
Collier.  He  had  a  bridle  of  rope,  which,  instead  of  a 
bit,  had  a  stout  piece  of  iron  that  fitted  about  his  nose  ; 
and  he  was  almost  covered  by  a  big  Moorish  saddle, 
that  rose  into  a  peak  before  and  behind,  and  had 
great  iron  stirrups  as  long  and  as  wide  as  shovels. 
Prom  the  little  Collier's  air  of  melancholy  resignation, 
as  he  stood  on  three  legs  with  drooping  ears  and  his 
head  leaning  against  the  porch  of  the  posada,  I 
took  him  to  be  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit,  patient  of 
toil,  and  beating,  and  starvation ;  those  ills  that 
every  Spanish  mule  is  heir  to.  I  thought  how  much 


10  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

reason  the  poor  wo-begone  little  beast  had  for  his 
dejectedness,  going  day  after  day  over  hill  and  dale, 
laden  with  heavy  panniers  and  obdurate  bales,  buf- 
feted and  banged  unmercifully,  called  by  all  sorts  of 
hard  names,  and  fain  to  fill  his  belly  once  a  day 
with  a  little  straw,  a  stingy  handful  of  barley, 
and  the  grass  gleaned  here  and  there  by  the  road- 
side. 

Now,  however  true  may  have  been  my  specula- 
tions about  the  Collier's  hardships  and  sufferings, 
he  was  any  thing  but  the  quiet,  meek-spirited  crea- 
ture I  had  taken  him  for ;  on  the  contrary  he 
proved  to  be  one  of  the  most  petulant,  cross-grained, 
ill-natured  beasts  in  all  Andalusia.  I  had  made  as 
gross  a  blunder  as  one  would  often  do  who  should 
go  about  the  world  a  character-reading  with  Lava- 
ter  for  his  guide,  saying  to  himself,  after  the  fashion 
of  that  famous  physiognomist,"  This  man  has  mascu- 
line energy  plainly  written  on  the  broad  and  bony 
root  of  his  nose ;  such  an  one  is  an  ass,  for  you  see 
his  frontal  sinus  terminates  in  a  point ;  and  as  for 
that  other's  mouth,  it  will  not  say  a  great  deal,  but 
all  it  does  say  will  be  very  much  to  the  purpose." 

The  testy  Carbonero  soon  gave  me  assurance 


THE    DEPARTURE.  11 

that  the  physiognomy  of  a  mule  may  be  as  deceitful 
as  a  man's.  No  sooner  had  I  gathered  up  the  rude 
reins  of  rope,  and  planted  one  foot  in  the  broad 
Moorish  stirrup,  than  he  curled  his  upper  lip  spite- 
fully, flung  away  with  a  sideling  motion,  kicked  the 
white  horse  with  the  holsters,  snapped  at  the  land- 
lord, and  trod  on  the  toes  of  the  guide.  After  this 
momentary  outpouring  of  wrath,  he  instantly  re- 
lapsed into  the  same  meek  and  melancholy  air  he 
had  worn  so  hypocritically  before.  It  was  now  his 
master's  turn  to  be  splenetic.  "  Child  of  the  Evil 
One  and  son  of  a  strumpet !"  exclaimed  Don  Ma- 
nuel, as  with  true  Andalusian  vivacity  he  rained  up- 
on the  back  of  the  rebellious  mule  a  tempest  of 
blows  that  might  have  waked  the  dead.  The  poor 
Collier  bore  it  all  with  the  meekness  of  a  martyr. 
Saint  Lawrence  roasting  on  the  gridiron  could  not 
have  worn  an  expression  of  deeper  resignation. 

Our  party  at  length  got  under  weigh  j  and  hav- 
ing passed  the  limits  of  the  village,  we  followed  the 
beaten  track  along  the  margin  of  the  water.  We 
soon  came  to  the  banks  of  a  small  stream,  which 
empties  its  scanty  tribute  into  the  bay.  Here  we 
were  all  received  on  board  a  clumsy  scow,  which 


12  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

two  peasants  pushed  across  with  long  poles. 
These  men  gave  us  the  consolatory  intelligence  that 
Jose  Maria,  the  most  famous  bandit  in  Andalusia, 
had  been  lately  seen  in  the  neighbourhood ;  and  that 
we  should  probably  have  the  pleasure  of  paying  tri- 
bute to  this  bold  Lord  of  the  Highway.  Don  Ma- 
nuel shrugged  his  shoulders  at  this  unwelcome  infor- 
mation, and  the  guides  looked  at  the  priming  of 
their  carabines. 

And  here,  perhaps,  I  might  say  a  word  or  two 
about  this  Spanish  Robin  Hood,  whose  very  name 
is  as  great  a  bug-bear  to  the  traveller  in  those  parts 
as  Blue  Beard  or  Bugaboo  to  the  inmates  of  the 
nursery.  In  truth,  the  stranger  who  ventures  to 
wander  through  the  beautiful  but  depopulated  land 
of  Andalusia,  hears  the  exploits  of  Jose  Maria  made 
the  theme  of  many  an  exaggerated  tale  by  the 
muleteers,  and  often  by  night  his  excited  imagina- 
tion sees  the  crouching  form  of  the  bandit  in  a  bush 
or  rock  by  the  wayside.  The  short  account  that  I 
am  about  to  give  of  him  was  gathered  from  various 
sources,  but  mostly  from  the  gossip  of  muleteers 
and  venteros  in  the  south  of  Spain,  the  chosen 
theatre  of  his  boldness  and  dexterity. 


JOSE    MARIA.  13 

Jotse  Maria  is  a  native  of  the  sunny  land  of  An- 
dalusia.  HeVwas  born,  as  the  story  goes,  of  a  re- 
spectable family,  and  was  intended  by  his  parents 
for  the  pious  walks  of  ecclesiastical  life.  For  this 
purpose  his  boyhood  was  probably  devoted  to  con- 
ning over  the  Latin  nouns  and  verbs,  and  commit- 
ting to  r&emory  scraps  from  the  breviary  under  the 
direction  of  the  village  curate  and  the  Maestro  de 
Nifios.  As  the  stripling  advanced  in  years,  he  went 
to  learn  theology  on  a  broader  scale  at  the  Univer- 
sity of  G  mnada,  where  he  soon  gave  evidence  that 
he  was  not  sent  into  the  world  to  chant  aves  and 
pater-nosters.  A  young  Granadina,  it  seems,  here 
caught  the  eye  of  the  beardless  theologian.  I  am 
sorry  I  cannot  describe  who  or  what  this  syren  was 
that  beguiled  poor  Jose  Maria  from  the  sobriety  of 
his  calling;  but,  reader,  if  you  have  ever  wandered 
in  the  long-lost  kingdom  of  the  Moors,  to  say  she 
was  a  Granadina  is  as  much  as  to  tell  you  that  she 
was  a  bewitching  brunette  with  jet  black  eyes,  a  pert 
little  foot,  and  a  luxurious  grace  in  her  carriage  that 
might  turn  the  head  of  a  mathematician.  Poor 
Jose  Maria  was  caught  one  night  by  her  father  at 
the  teet  of  this  fair  one ;  a  scene  ensued ;  knives 
2 


14  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

were  out  and  wounds  were  given ;  the  young  theo- 
logian took  to  his  heels,  and  dreading  the  wrath  of 
the  civil  authority  and  the  penances  of  the  church, 
fled  from  Granada. 

The  runaway  student  soon  found  himself  in  'a  call- 
ing more  congenial  to  his  daring  disposition ;  travers- 
ing the  bye-paths  of  Andalusia  as  a  contrafcandista, 
with  a  carabine  at  his  saddle-bow,  and  &,  string  of 
mules  laden  with  bales  of  smuggled  merchandize. 
Ill  luck,  however,  pursued  him  in  this  new  vocation ; 
for  one  day  he  was  set  upon  by  some  adtianeros,  or 
custom-house  officers,  whom  he  had  probably  for- 
gotten to  fee.  Jose  Maria  did  not  abandon  the 
field  until  some  of  the  assailants  had  paid  dearly  for 
the  prize ;  but  as  he  saved  nothing  from  the  ren- 
contre but  his  life  and  his  escopeta,  he  became  a 
desperate  man,  and,  by  a  very  natural  transition, 
passed  from  a  smuggler  to  a  bandit.  Associates 
were  easily  found ;  for  how  could  he  be  at  a  loss  for 
them  among  a  people  ground  to  the  earth  by  po- 
verty, and  where,  moreover,  so  many  men  are 
driven  to  desperation  by  political  persecution?  He 
soon  gathered  around  him  a  band  of  followers,  who 
looked  up  to  him  as  their  chief,  from  his  superior 


JOSE    MARIA.  15 

boldness,  activity,  and  cunning.  He  has  now,  for 
many  years,  preyed  on  the  public,  and  set  the  go- 
vernment at  defiance.  The  latter,  to  be  sure,  is  no 
troublesome  matter,  in  a  country  where  the  police, 
like  the  rest  of  the  machine  of  state,  is  ill  organized  ; 
and  where,  moreover,  you  may  buy  the  honesty  of 
its  officers  as  you  would  buy  an  ox  or  an  ass. 

Jose  Maria,  though  a  bandit,  is  not  a  ferocious 
man.  He  takes  purses  it  is  true,  and  may  occasion- 
ally inflict  a  beating  on  the  refractory ;  but  he  sel- 
dom adds  murder  to  robbery.  There  is  even  a 
dash  of  chivalry  in  some  of  his  adventures.  Thus, 
for  example,  he  was  scouring  the  country  one  day 
on  horseback,  with  his  band  at  his  heels,  when  they 
brought  the  diligence  to  a  stand.  "  Madam,"  said 
the  chief  to  a  lady  in  the  berlina,  a  noble  dame  from 
Seville,  "  we  must  trouble  you  for  your  purse  and 
the  keys  of  your  portmanteau."  "Here  are  the 
keys,"  said  she,  trembling  with  fright ;  "  but  the  con- 
tents of  my  trunk  and  purse  have  all  been  carried 
off  by  Jose  Maria."  "By  Jose  Maria!"  said  the 
bandit,  "  why  I  am  the  man  ;  who  dares  to  rob  in 
my  name  ?"  The  lady  insisted,  as  well  she  might ; 
for  a  party  of  robbers,  headed  by  one  who  had 


16  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

usurped  the  title  of  the  great  bandit  of  Andalusia, 
had,  but  a  few  hours  before,  plundered  the  dili- 
gence, and  left  the  lady  without  a  maravedi.  Jose 
Maria  inquired  particularly  the  time  and  place  of 
the  disaster,  the  appearance  of  the  counterfeit  chief 
and  his  band,  the  route  he  had  taken,  and  the  la- 
dy's own  address.  He  vowed  vengeance  on  the  ag- 
gressor, and  assured  her  she  should  have  back  the 
goods  and  money,  as  sure  as  he  was  the  true  Jose 
Maria  and  the  other  a  lying  caitiff.  This  promise 
he  faithfully  fulfilled. 

On  another  occasion,  Pepe,  or  el  Sefior  del  Campo, 
the  Lord  of  the  Fields,  as  he  was  also  mysteriously  call- 
ed among  his  followers,  met  a  poor  man  riding  on  a 
very  fine  horse,  which  he  was  taking  to  Ronda  Fair. 
It  seems  that  not  long  before,  his  favourite  horse  had 
stumbled  with  him,  when,  deliberately  drawing  a 
pistol,  shot  him  through  the  head.  Being  asked  by 
his  comrades  the  cause  of  this,  he  said  that  the  horse's 
stumbling  was  of  no  consequence  then ;  but  if  he  had 
lived,  he  might  have  stumbled  with  him  when  the 
king's  troopers  were  at  his  heels.  Neither  was  it  fit 
that  the  horse  which  had  carried  the  Lord  of  the 
Fields  should  carry  a  common  man.  He  saw  now 


A  BANDIT'S  MORALITY.  17 

that  the  korse  of  the  old  man  was  what  he  wanted, 
and  at  once  appropriated  him.  The  poor  fellow, 
however,  touched  his  heart  by  his  supplications; 
and  he  at  length  gave  him  even  more  than  his 
value.  He  put  six  ounces  of  gold  into  his  hand,  and 
bade  him  go  to  a  certain  man  in  Ronda,  who  had  a 
fine  mule,  the  price  of  which  was  the  sum  he  had 
given  hirn.  The  man  did  a&  he  was  told,  and  thus 
became  the  possessor  of  a  mule  of  greater  value  even 
than  his  favourite  horse.  The  seller,  too,  was  well 
satisfied  to  have  got  his  price ;  in  ounces  of  gold,  too, 
so  convenient  for  hiding.  That  night,  as  he  was 
dreaming  of  his  good  fortune,  the  muzzle  of  Pepe's 
gun  was  placed  to  his  ear,  and  he  was  called  upon 
to  deliver  up  the  six  ounces  which  he  had  that  day 
received  from  an  old  man  for  the  sale  of  his  mule. 
Such  was  the  mixture  of  villainy  and  wild  gene- 
rosity that  marked  the  character  of  Jose  Maria. 

In  person,  Jose  Maria  is  described  as  a  little  man, 
sinewy  and  active,  gay  in  his  attire,  a  bold  horse- 
man, and  a  dead  shot  with  the  escopeta.  "  Donde 
pone  el  ojo,  pone  la  bala,"  said  our  Cosario,  Manuel ; 
"  Where  he  fixes  his  eye,  he  sends  the  bullet."  It 
seems,  from  recent  statements  in  the  newspapers, 
2* 


18  SCENES    IN   SPAIN. 

that  Jose  Maria  has  recently  added  to  the  trade  of 
bandit  the  worthier  profession  of  patriot ;  and  that 
he  has  assembled  round  him,  in  the  mountains  of 
Andalusia,  a  band  of  guerrilla  warriors,  with  whom 
he  has  planted  a  tree  of  liberty.  When,  alas !  will 
that  tree  be  planted  by  purer  hands !  when  will  it 
take  root  and  bear  fruit  in  the  soil  of  unhappy 
Spain  !  Hitherto  its  fate  has  ever  been  to  be  hewn 
down  and  cast  into  the  fire. 

In  addition  to  what  is  here  stated  of  Jose  Maria, 
we  may  now  add,  at  the  distance  of  several  vears,  that 
Jose  Maria,  being  hotly  pursued,  and  in  expectation 
of  being  taken,  voluntarily  surrendered  himself,  and 

*+ 

claimed  the  promised  pardon  long  befo::e  offered  to 
him.  He  was  afterwards  employed  by  the  govern- 
ment to  pursue  robfcers  in  Andalusia,  having  under 
his  command  a  band  of  his  old  comrades,  pardoned 
like  himself.  Many  of  his  former  followers  still, 
however,  pursued  their  lawless  life ;  and  of  course 
vowed  vengeance  against  their  traitorous  chief,  to 
whom  they  had  ever  been  so  faithful.  He  was  not 
safe  even  in  the  streets  of  Seville  without  a  guard ; 
and  the  opinion,  even  among  honest  people,  who 
have  a  singular  sympathy  in  Spain  for  bold  and  con- 


19 


sistent    rogues,  was  by  no    means  favourable  to 
him. 

Being  one  day  in  pursuit  of  a  party  of  bandits,  he 
rode  up  to  an  isolated  venta,  to  which  he  had  traced 
them.  On  describing  the  individuals,  he  was  told 
that  they  were  not  there.  He  and  his  comrades  now 
drew  off  from  the  house,  and  coming  to  a  tree, 
alighted  to  eat  and  refresh  themselves  under  its 
shade.  The  robbers,  however,  were  really  there ; 
and  one  of  them  stealing  out,  crept,  without  being 
discovered,  quite  near  to  the  unsuspecting  group ; 
took  deliberate  aim  at  Jose  Maria  as  he  was  drink- 
ing from  a  skin  bottle,  and  shot  him  through  the 
heart.  Thus  fell  Jose  Maria.  He  had  lived  a  hero 
in  the  eyes  of  the  Andalusians,  and  he  died  a  traitor. 


CHAP.  III. 

K  JOURNEY    TO    RONDA. 

AFTER  crossing  the  stream  we  have  mentioned,  we 
refreshed  ourselves  beneath  a  solitary  cork  tree  with 
a  draught  of  wine  from  the  leathern  bottle  of  Don 
Manuel ;  we  then  mounted  our  nags,  the  guides  lead- 


20  SCENES    IN   SPAIN. 

ing  the  van  on  foot.  They  first  conducted  us 
through  an  open  waste,  intersected  by  a  great  ma- 
ny diverging  tracks,  and  where  an  inexperienced 
traveller  would  soon  have  become  bewildered  and 
lost.  As  we  advanced  into  the  country  they  became 
less  numerous,  till  at  length  we  found  ourselves  on  a 
solitary  bridle  path,  shut  in  by  cork  trees  and  un- 
derwood, with  here  and  there  an  orange  grove  or  a 
plantation  of  the  dismal  olive.  The  thickets  were 
frequently  cheered  by  the  full  sweet  notes  of  the 
nightingale,  which  sings  no  where  with  a  better 
heart  than  in  the  sunny  land  of  southern  Spain. 

Our  guides  seemed  to  keep  a  good  look  out  among 
these  thickets,  as  if  they  supposed  the  journey  not 
free  from  danger ;  and,  in  truth,  the  roads  were  more 
insecure  just  at  that  period  than  they  had  been  for 
a  long  time  previous. 

This  had  been  particularly  the  case  since  the  clos- 
ing of  the  communication  between  Spain  and  Gi- 
braltar, in  consequence  of  the  descent  of  a  party  of 
Liberals,  at  the  time  of  the  mutiny  in  Cadiz  and  the 
Isle  of  Leon.  These  Liberals  had  long  been  col- 
lected in  Gibraltar  and  the  Bay,  whence  they  made 
a  sally,  getting  possession  of  the  guard  at  the  Neu- 


LIBERAL    INSURRECTION.  21 

tral  Ground,  and  establishing  themselves  in  the  con- 
vent of  Almorayma,  in  the  Sierra  of  that  name, 
which  lies  beyond  the  Boca  de  Leones,  a  site  famous 
in  Robin  Hood  adventures.  Their  movement, 
though  hardy  and  well  executed,  was  premature. 
It  was  the  last  effort  of  despairing,  starving  men,  in 
daily  expectation  of  being  driven  from  a  situation 
already  so  wretched  as  theirs  in  the  Bay  of  Gibral- 
tar, and  who  were  willing  enough  to  find  the  death 
which  befel  most  of  them.  A  rising  had  been  pro- 
jected at  Cadiz  and  elsewhere,  which  was  to  have 
been  simultaneous  with  the  landing  of  the  exiles ; 
but  the  only  result  was  the  assassination  of  the 
Governor  of  Cadiz,  who  is  accused  of  having  en- 
gaged in  the  conspiracy  only  for  the  purpose  of  de- 
feating it.  The  exiles,  who  had  thrown  themselves 
into  the  Sierra,  were  there  cut  to  pieces  by  those 
upon  whom  they  had  lavished  their  money;  and 
the  Serranos,  or  mountaineers,  evinced  that  loyalty 
to  the  Throne  and  the  Altar  which  has  always 
characterized  them.  This  insurrectionary  move- 
ment, while  it  ruined  those  who  embarked  in  it, 
injured  the  cause  of  liberty.  The  lawless  character 
of  its  chiefs  affected  the  respectability  of  the  Liberals 


22 


SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 


as  much  as  its  unhappy  result  disheartened  them. 
The  Spanish  government,  both  alarmed  and  in- 
censed by  these  demonstrations,  closed  the  commu- 
nication with  Gibraltar,  and  thus  increased  the 
number  of  needy  and  desperate  men  in  a  land  al- 
ways sufficiently  supplied  with  them.  Robbery 
now  stalked  more  boldly  than  ever  through  this 
beautiful  but  afflicted  country. 

Of  our  three  guides,  the  one  who  seemed  most 
ambitious  of  keeping  in  the  van  was  one  Matias, 
cousin  of  Manuel.  He  was  an  Andalusian,  a  tall 
and  handsome  fellow  of  some  thirty-five  years.  His 
frame  was  sinewy  and  athletic,  and  his  countenance 
had  an  open  and  lively  cast,  with  an  expression  of 
intelligence  given  to  it  by  his  keen  hazel  eyes.  His 
attire  was  in  the  Andalusian  fashion ;  a  jacket  of 
brown  cloth,  breeches,  leathern  gaiters  that  had 
once  been  white,  but  now  rusty  and  the  worse  for 
wear,  and  a  low  hat  with  a  round  crown  and  a 
broad  brim,  turned  up'all  round  and  garnished  with 
coarse  velvet  and  beads.  His  waist  was  girt  with  a 
red  sash  and  a  leathern  belt,  in  which  he  carried  the 
cartridges  for  his  escopeta.  It  was  a  rusty  old-fa- 
shioned piece,  but  still  might  have  done  good  ser- 


OUR    GUIDES. 


23 


vice  in  the  hands  of  Matias,  who  had  learned  the 
use  of  his  weapon  in  the  war  against  the  French. 
I  had  some  conversation  with  him  about  his  cam- 
paigns, and  from  the  enthusiasm  with  which  he  re- 
called these  scenes  of  his  boyish  days,  I  doubt  not 
he  had  been  a  hardy  soldier.  On  one  occasion,  after 
recounting  an  onslaught  in  which  he  had  been  engag- 
ed, he  exclaimed  with  a  dash  of  that  gasconade 
which  is  characteristic  of  the  Andalusian,  "  Senor, 
mas  me  gusta  una  batalla  que  un  amor  " — u  Sir,  a 
battle  has  more  charms  for  me  than  an  amour." 

Another  of  our  guides  was  Juan  Capitan,  a  shed- 
der  of  blood  in  a  more  peaceful  way  than  Matias,  be- 
ing a  cazador  or  huntsman,  who  spent  half  his  life 
roaming  over  heath  and  hill,  slaying  hares  and  par- 
tridges. He  was  a  stout  short  man,  but  vigorous 
and  active.  As  for  the  third  escopetero,  he  was  one 
of  those  indifferent  sort  of  people  who  have  no  cha- 
racter at  all,  a  circumstance  in  which  he  differed 
greatly  from  the  fourth  and  last  of  our  escort,  to 
whom  fell  the  task  of  looking  after  the  baggage  and 
thrashing  the  mules  that  carried  it.  He  was  a  shab- 
bily clad,  vulgar  fellow,  so  ill-favoured  in  his  per- 
son and  petulant  in  his  temper,  that  a  waggish  lieu- 


24 


SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 


tenant  of  our  party  christened  him  by  the  name  of  Cali- 
ban, The  fellow  was  always  growling  and  grumbling 
at  the  other  guides,  or  thumping  the  poor  beasts  with 
his  staff,  accompanying  the  discipline  with  certain 
oaths  and  delicate  appellatives  always  used  on  such 
occasions.  As  for  Manuel  Franco,  our  cosario,  he  was 
a  civil  and  obliging  fellow ;  and  as  he  provided  as  well 
as  he  could  for  our  comfort,  we  heeded  but  little  the  re- 
proaches of  his  companion  Matias,  who  said  he  was 
avaricious  and  cowardly.  Though  a  married  man, 
with  a  houseful  of  children  at  Algesiras,  he  devoted 
himself  with  great  gallantry  to  the  kitchen-maids 
at  the  ventas,  with  whom  he  seemed  a  special  fa- 
vourite. 

It  was  about  the  hour  of  mid-day,  when,  after 
fording  a  little  stream  and  watering  our  beasts,  we 
halted  at  a  poor  venta,  where  there  was  little  to  be 
found  but  shelter  from  the  noontide  heat.  While 
our  horses  and  mules  were  led  away  to  one  end  of 
the  large  room  which  answered  both  as  parlour  and 
stable,  we  sat  down  at  the  other,  round  our  stock  of 
provender,  which  we  spread  on  a  napkin  upon  the 
earthen  floor.  The  ham  and  ship's  biscuit  were 
flanked  by  the  leathern  bottle  of  wine  and  a  flask 


SOLITARY    VENTA. 


25 


of  brandy  ;  and  though  the  repast  was  a  rude  one, 
our  hungry  stomachs  gave  it  a  hearty  welcome.  A 
bare-footed  peasant  girl,  with  blowzy  hair  and  a  pair 
of  wild  black  eyes,  supplied  us  with  water  from  an 
earthen  flagon  of  a  quaint  antique  fashion,  while  a 
couple  of  half-starved  dogs  stood  anxiously  watch- 
ing each  mouthful  we  ate  with  a  beseeching  look, 
that  was  occasionally  answered  by  a  bit  of  bisciiit 
or  a  scrap  of  bacon.  A  whole  family  of  swallows 
kept  fluttering  and  twittering  the  while  about  the 
rafters  of  the  venta,  surprised  in  their  quiet  quar- 
ters by  this  unusual  concourse  of  men  and  beasts. 

We  paid  a  few  reals  to  the  people  of  the  venta, 
who  in  return  commended  us  to  God's  keeping ;  we 
then  resumed  our  journey,  with  our  escopeteros  in 
advance  to  serve  as  videttes.  The  road  gradually  be- 
came more  wild  and  rugged.  Now  we  threaded  a 
path  along  a  hill-side  so  hemmed  in  with  stunted 
cork  trees  and  underwood  that  we  were  obliged  to 
straggle  along  in  single  file :  anon  we  forded  a 
stream  with  the  water  up  to  the  bellies  of  the  horses. 
Here  and  there,  where  the  path  was  more  open 
and  unbroken  with  rocks  and  stones,  we  urged  our 
nags  into  a  trot,  stimulating  them  with  kicks  under 
3 


26  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

the  flank,  or  with  the  pointed  end  of  the  Moorish  stir- 
rup. There  was  enough  in  the  novelty  of  the  scene- 
ry, and  in  this  unwonted  style  of  journeying,  to  keep 
the  mind  awake  ;  not  to  speak  of  the  merriment  of 
a  set  of  gay  fellows  just  let  loose  from  the  cramped 
quarters  of  the  wardroom  and  steerage,  and  the  stiff 
etiquette  of  the  quarter-deck,  to  the  elbow-room  of 
these  wild  mountains  and  the  holiday  freedom  of  the 
shore.  Many  a  joke  was  cracked,  and  many  a  song 
sung  to  beguile  the  way.  Now  a  derry  down  stave 
from  some  forecastle  ditty,  and  anon  a  catch  from  the 
fandango,  or  an  Andalusian  ballad  by  one  of  our 
guides. 

It  was  nearly  sunset,  when,  after  struggling 
through  a  deep  stream,  where  we  trusted  entirely  to 
the  sagacity  of  our  beasts,  we  reached  a  grove  of 
luxuriant  orange  trees,  which  was  enlivened  with  the 
sweet  notes  of  the  nightingale,  and  whose  aroma 
filled  the  air  with  a  delicious  perfume.  Here  we 
found  a  small  farm-house,  at  which  we  bought  a 
store  of  apricots  and  other  fruit  for  a  few  cuartos,  and 
rested  awhile  under  the  welcome  shade  of  the  trees. 

At  this  place  commenced  the  steep  and  trouble- 
some ascent  of  the  bold  Sierra,  on  whose  summit  is 


GAUCIN.  27 

perched  the  mountain  village  of  Gaucin.  The 
path  was  so  narrow  that  we  were  obliged  to 
move  in  a  single  file,  and  so  abrupt,  that  as  we 
wound  up  in  a  cork-screw  fashion,  those  in  advance 
might  sometimes  look  down  upon  those  who  brought 
up  the  rear  of  the  party,  immediately  below  them. 

Half-way  up  we  met  a  swarthy  peasant,  with  three  or 

<i 
four  asses  laden  with  charcoal,  that  came  creeping 

like  cats  down  the  hill.  We  had  been  warned  some 
time  before  of  their  approach  by  the  tinkling  of  a 
large  bell  suspended  from  the  neck  of  the  leader. 
Our  guides  interrogated  this  peasant  about  the  road, 
and  he  replied  that  he  had  met  no  suspicious  people 
on  the  mountain.  A  very  small  band  could  have 
robbed  us  as  we  came  up,  one  by  one,  and  then  tum- 
bled us  down  the  hill-side  to  complete  the  entertain- 
ment. From  such  ill  fortune,  however,  our  good 
stars  protected  us.  The  gray  twilight  had  just  given 
place  to  the  obscurity  of  night,  when,  after  much 
twisting  and  turning,  we  at  length  gained  the  sum- 
mit of  the  Sierra,  and  saw  with  hearty  good  will  the 
twinkling  lights  of  the  village.  As  we  entered  Gau- 
cin, we  found  the  villagers  sitting  at  the  doors  of  the 
cottages,  inhaling  the  pleasant  evening  air ;  while 


28  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

more  than  one  party  of  boys  and  girls  were  rattling 
the  Castanet  or  thumbing  the  guitar.  The  tramp- 
ling of  our  beasts  suspended  their  sport,  and  brought 
the  whole  population  to  the  doors  and  windows  to 
witness  the  arrival  of  the  strangers.  We  drove  im- 
mediately into  the  wide  door  of  the  inn,  and  untie- 
ing our  pistols  from  the  saddle-bow,  committed  the 
jaded  beasts  to  the  care  of  the  guides.  Manuel 
then  ushered  us  into  the  kitchen  of  the  posada, 
where  the  wife  and  daughters  of  the  host  were  su- 
perintending a  parcel  of  old-fashioned  pipkins  that 
simmered  invitingly  by  the  fire.  The  serving-maid 
of  the  inn,  a  sharp-eyed  Andaluza,  Margarita  by 
name,  was  sitting  on  a  stone  by  the  chimney,  strip- 
ping the  skin  from  a  hare.  She  had  a  mischievous 
glance  of  the  eye,  which  made  me  suspect  that,  like 
Maritornes  of  old.  she  was  fair  game  for  the  gallan- 
try of  the  muleteers  and  cosarios.  In  the  opposite 
corner  sat  the  ventero,  demure  and  motionless,  lean- 
ing his  chin  on  a  long  staff ;  the  poor  fellow  was 
blind.  There  were  also  one  or  two  peasants  in  the 
apartment,  and  a  dirty  looking  soldier,  who  was 
going  on  leave  from  the  fortress  at  Ceuta  to  the 
mountain  town  of  Ronda.  The  knapsack  that  lay  at 


,^ 

JOURNEY    RENEWED.  29 


his  feet  doubtless  contained  all  his  worldly  gear  ; 
but,  poor  as  he  was,  he  seemed  anxious  to  escape  the 
salteadores,  for  he  asked  permission  to  accompany 
our  party  the  next  day. 

The  ventera  gave  us  a  humble  meal  of  bread, 
a  salad,  a  greasy  stew  of  meat  and  tomatoes,  and 
some  of  the  wine  of  Gaucin.  We  were  put  to  sleep 
on  sundry  beds  and  blankets,  spread  out  on  the  plais- 
ter  floor  of  the  only  bed-room  of  the  inn.  As  our 
party  consisted  of  nine  persons,  we  were  stowed  as 
closely  as  eggs  in  a  basket ;  and  to  increase  the 
comfort,  found  ourselves  beset  by  hosts  of  hun 
fleas.  However,  after  much  tumbling,  tossing, 
commending  all  the  inns  of  Andalusia  to  the  Wick- 
ed One,  we  dropped  asleep,  and  thought  no  more  of 
worldly  ills  till  the  morrow. 

We  started  from  Gaucin  at  an  early  hour  on  the 
following  day.  The  country  through  which  we 
passed  was  thrown  into  lofty  mountains  and  deep 
vallies  of  great  fertility.  Though  the  ridges  of 
these  mountains  were  rugged  and  sterile,  their  sides 
were  generally  cultivated,  presenting  masses  of  vine- 
yard, and  dotted  with  frequent  villages.  The  road 
now  ran  along  the  sides  of  these  mountains,  and  now 
3* 


30  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

plunged  into  deep  ravines,  down  which  the  horses 
and  mules  crept  with  great  care  ;  for  the  path  was 
frequently  strown  with  loose  stones  that  made  the 
footing  any  thing  but  secure.  For  myself,  I  found 
that  bestriding  a  mule  gave  me  a  great  advantage  in 
these  places  over  my  companions,  who  were  more 
ambitiously  mounted.  The  petulant  little  Carbone- 
ro,  in  descending  these  break-neck  ravines,  seemed 
to  forget  his  spleen,  and  to  be  wholly  absorbed  in 
picking  his  down -hill  way  with  the  greatest  comfort 
to  his  rider  and  himself.  His  slender,  tapering  legs 
and  little  feet  moved  with  a  certain,  stealthy,  cun- 
ning precision,  never  slipping  nor  making  a  false 
step.  He  would  sometimes  come  to  a  halt,  and  scru- 
tinize the  footing  before  him  to  ascertain  whether  it 
was  steady  or  insecure ;  and  having  chosen  his  path, 
go  on  again  without  the  necessity  of  encouragement 
or  rebuke. 

After  following  this  wild  mountain  road  for  some 
hours,  we  came  to  the  little  village  of  Atajate.  It 
was  a  poverty-stricken  place,  like  all  Spanish  pue- 
blos;  its  houses  plastered  with  mud  or  built  of 
rough  unhewn  stones,  had  a  comfortless,  wo-begone 
air  ;  and  the  unwashed  and  uncombed  peasant  wo- 


ATAJATE. 


31 


men,  who  peeped  at  us  through  the  iron-barred  win- 
dows, were  in  good  keeping  with  the  hovels  they 
occupied.     We  halted  at  the  posada  of  the  place  a 
little  while,  to  have  some  of  the  beasts  shod  at  the 
neighbouring  smithy.     A  group  of  wild-looking  fel- 
lows, wrapped  in  dark-coloured  cloaks,  and  with 
their  swarthy  visages  shaded  by  the  broad-brimmed 
bonnet  of  Andalusia,  were  smoking  their  paper  ci- 
garillos  at  the  porch  ;  while  the  gray-haired  hostess 
sat  in  the  doorway  twirling  a  distaff.     The  poor  old 
woman  looked  dull  and  disheartened,  for,  as  we 
were  presently  informed,  sorrow  had  been  a  recent 
visitant  of  her  roof.     Her  husband  was  returning  to 
the  village  a  few  days  before,  when  he  was  met  on 
the  road  by  a  runaway  from  the  presidios  or  galleys, 
a  fellow  familiar  with  crime.     The  presidiario  want- 
ed the  old  man  to  take  charge  of  his  ass,  and  keep  it 
at  the  inn  till  his  return.     The  innkeeper  refused  to 
take  it,  and  some  altercation  ensuing,  the  wretch 
drew  his  knife  and  stabbed  the  defenceless  old  man 
with  several  mortal  wounds.     Some  muleteers,  who 
came  by  a  little  while  afterwards,  found  him  in  this 
wretched  plight;  they  laid  him  on  one  of  their 
mules  and  carried  him  to  Gaucin,  where  he  told  the 


32  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

story  of  his  quarrel  with  the  presidario,  and  soon 
expired.  The  robber  was  pursued,  but  unsuccess- 
fully, by  the  police ;  who  caused  the  innkeeper  to  be 
buried,  and  levied  upon  a  mule  he  had  to  pay  the 
expenses  of  the  justicia. 

Soon  after  leaving  Atajate,  a  horseman  joined  our 
party,  who  seemed  a  shopkeeper  or  contrabandista, 
or  perhaps  both.  He  was  a  young  man,  dressed  in 
the  Andalusian  costume,  except  that  his  cloak  was 
of  blue  cloth  instead  of  brown  ;  a  circumstance 
which,  though  seemingly  trivial  to  a  stranger,  would 
be  better  understood  by  a  Spaniard.  Gente  de  capa 
parda — people  of  the  brown  cloak — would  express  in 
Spain  the  poorer  sort  of  people,  such  as  muleteers 
and  peasants.  His  horse  was  a  well-looking  road- 
ster, who  moved  with  some  spirit  though  loaded 
with  two  stout  bales,  between  which  his  master  sat 
cross-legged,  after  the  fashion  of  a  tailor  or  a  Turk. 
His  escopeta  was  suspended  from  one  of  the  bales,  and 
a  little  earthen  cantine  hung  at  the  front  of  his  sad- 
dle. In  this  he  carried  some  Holland  gin,  bought, 
doubtless,  from  one  of  those  clumsy  Dutch  vessels  I 
had  seen  lying  in  the  bay  of  Gibraltar.  He  offered 
me  a  draught  of  it  at  a  spring  by  the  road-side, 


ROBBERS.  33 

where  we  halted  to  refresh  ourselves.  I  returned 
his  well-meant  compliment  with  two  or  three  Hava- 
na cigars,  which  he  received  with  special  satisfac- 
tion. 

A  few  miles  from  Atajate,  after  winding  along  a 
sterile,  rocky  hill,  we  came  to  a  deep  and  narrow 
gorge,  so  hemmed  in  by  mountains  that  apparently 
it  had  no  outlet.  The  path  was  so  rough  that  we 
were  obliged  to  dismount,  and  so  narrow  that  it  be- 
came necessary  to  move  in  a  straggling  Hue.  The 
ravine  was  well  known  by  sad  experience  to  the 
French,  for  many  a  bullet  was  sent  with  deadly  aim 
among  them,  whenever  they  passed  this  gorge,  by 
the  guerrilla  men,  who  hid  themselves  among  the 
crags  which  surround  it.  I  had  just  entered  the 
pass  with  three  or  four  of  my  companions,  when 
one  of  them  said  in  an  under-tone,  "  Get  your  pis- 
tols !  here  are  robbers."  Sure  enough  a  party  of 
six  or  seven  fellows,  armed  with  knives  and  escope- 
tas,  were  lying  near  the  path  some  twenty  feet  in 
advance.  Matias  beckoned  to  our  companions  be- 
hind to  come  on,  and  they  presently  straggled  into 
the  gorge  one  by  one.  We  had  all  got  our  pistols 
from  the  saddle-bow,  and  were  waiting  the  issue  of 


34  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

the  adventure,  when  one  of  the  band  advanced 
towards  us  without  his  weapon.  He  was  an  active, 
well-built  fellow,  with  a  sharp  gray  eye,  and  rather 
under-sized.  He  had  on  an  embroidered  jacket, 
breeches,  and  white  leather  gaiters ;  and  a  red  silk 
sash  round  his  waist.  He  touched  his  hat  to  us 
very  civilly,  and  said, "  Caballeros,  no  tengan  ustedes 
cuidado," — "Gentlemen,  give  yourselves  na  alarm; 
we  are  realistas  put  here  to  guard  the  path ;  if  your 
worships  will  have  the  goodness  to  give  us  a  little 
money  to  buy  some  wine,  we  shall  be  infinitely 
obliged  to  you."  There  was  something  very  suspi- 
cious in  the  appearance  of  these  men ;  but  as  the 
request  was  a  civil  one,  particularly  when  we  had 
expected  a  louder  call  upon  our  purses,  we  gave  him 
a  dollar.  He  then  returned  to  his  companions,  who 
had  all  the  time  remained  motionless  on  the  grass* 
Meanwhile  our  whole  party  had  come  together; 
some  swore  they  were  bandits,  others  said  they  were 
true  men.  However,  we  all  agreed  to  be  on  the 
look  out  till  we  had  passed  the  ravine,  and  accord- 
ingly carried  our  pistols  in  readiness,  leading  our 
beasts  along  by  the  bridle.  The  soldier  from  Ceuta, 
who  was  in  fact  a  bad  looking  fellow,  and  who  evi- 


ROBBERS.  35 

dently  was  afraid  he  might  come  in  for  a  share  of 
our  suspicions,  pulled  out,  with  some  trepidation,  a 
dirty  piece  of  paper  from  his  pocket,  which  contain- 
ed his  credentials  and  leave  of  absence  from  the 
garrison.  Though  the  poor  fellow  may  have  been 
an  honest  man,  this  was  very  far  from  being  the 
case  with  the  pretended  guardians  of  the  road.  We 
found  afterwards  in  Ronda,  that  they  had  robbed  se- 
veral people,  and  our  pistols  and  escopetas  were 
doubtless  the  only  saving  clause  in  our  favour.  A 
party  of  soldiers  started  from  Ronda  in  pursuit  of 
them  two  or  three  days  afterwards,  but  with  what 
success  we  never  learned.  It  was  said  in  Ronda 
that  their  chief  was  Jose  Maria  himself. 

We  continued  to  wind  along  a  wild  ravine  be- 
tween lofty  and  rugged  hills,  till,  at  length,  on  emerg- 
ing from  it  we  came  in  sight  of  the  village  of 
Ronda.  On  arriving  at  the  gate  we  delivered  our 
passports,  and  also  had  a  short  parley  with  a  custom- 
house officer,  whose  scruples  were  quickly  satisfied 
with  the  gift  of  a  few  pesetas. 

After  a  short  halt  at  the  gate  of  the  city,  we 
wound  our  way  through  several  narrow,  antiquated 
streets,  until  we  at  length  came  to  the  Inn  of  the 


36  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

Souls.  The  vestibule  was  crowded  with  mules  and 
asses,  and  a  group  of  peasants,  in  holiday  clothes, 
who  had  come  to  see  the  Fair.  Making  our  way 
through  them,  we  reached  the  kitchen,  where  the 
hostess,  and  several  buxom  maids,  were  bustling 
about,  concocting  pucheros  and  olla  podrida,  for 
this  unwonted  concourse  of  guests.  These  dishes 
sent  forth  a  savoury  steam  quite  provoking  to  the 
nose  and  palate,  and  which  increased  our  desire  to 
share  the  hospitality  of  the  posada. 

We  asked  the  ventera  if  we  could  find  rest  and  re- 
freshment at  the  Inn  of  the  Souls  for  ourselves  and 
beasts  ;  but  were  all  sadly  chop-fallen  when  informed 
that  the  whole  house  was  full,  and  that  such  crowds 
of  <  forasteros,'  or  strangers,  had  come  to  Ronda,  that 
we  should  be  puzzled  to  get  lodgings  elsewhere. 

Having  received  this  uncomfortable  assurance, 
we  returned  to  the  porch  with  the  air  of  disappoint- 
ed and  hungry  men,  casting  backward  glances  to 
the  pipkins  and  pots,  whose  alluring  fragrance  was 
all  that  we  were  permitted  to  participate  in.  As  we 
mounted  and  rode  away,  the  hostess  bade  us  go 
with  God,  and  gave  us  a  very  superfluous  invitation 
to  patronize  the  Inn  of  the  Souls  another  time. 


RONDA   FAIR.  ; ...;V  37 

when  we  should  be  free  to  dispose  of  the  whole  po- 
sada. 

After  straggling  about  the  town  for  some  time 
with  weary  limbs  and  empty  stomachs,  Manuel  at 
last  found  us  accommodations  in  a  private  house 
near  the  Plaza  de  Toros.  Our  host  was  a  hand- 
some black-eyed  and  well-whiskered  Andalusian, 
gaily  attired  in  majo  costume.  His  dress  showed 
very  advantageously  a  neat  figure,  which  he  himself 
seemed  fully  to  appreciate.  Vanity  was  not  the  on- 
ly foible  of  this  gallant  Andalusian :  supposing  us 
to  be  Ingleses,  or  Englishmen,  who  pay  always  like 
great  folks,  he  made  an  exorbitant  demand  for  his 
hospitality.  Hereupon  a  parley  ensued,  in  which 
he  said  very  ingenuously  that  it  was  always  customa- 
ry to  charge  foreigners  more.  "  It  is  a  bad  custom," 
said  our  spokesman.  "  Well,"  said  the  Andalusian, 
shrugging  his  shoulders,  "  ustedes  tienen  sus  cos- 
tumbres  y  nosotros  los  nuestros"  —  "  your  country- 
men have  their  usages,  we  have  ours."  However, 
the  remonstrance  brought  him  to  about  one  half  of 
his  first  demand.  These  preliminaries  settled,  we 
left  to  Don  Manuel  the  details  of  the  negotiation, 
the  arrangement  of  our  meals,  the  style  of  the, 

4 


38  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

puchero  for  the  guides,  and  the  rations  of  barley  for 
the  cattle. 

The  streets  and  suburbs  of  Ronda  offered  at  this 
time  a  bustling  and  gay  spectacle.  Every  body  was 
in  motion,  and  every  body  in  their  holiday  clothes. 
There  were  hale,  bright-eyed  peasant  women,  with 
roses  in  their  coal-black  hair,  their  husbands  and  lov- 
ers escorting  them,  attired  in  the  jaunty  garb  of  their 
country ;  crowds  of  donkeys,  laden  with  fruits  and 
vegetables,  or  hid  under  sooty  bags  of  charcoal; 
strolling  musicians,  who  trolled  the  love  songs  of 
the  warm  land  of  Andalusia  to  the  rude  accom- 
paniment of  a  guitar ;  swarthy  gypsies,  carrying 
about  for  sale,  paper,  fans,  and  other  two-penny 
wares ;  soldiers  off  duty,  with  their  clothes  cleanly 
brushed,  fresh  blacking  on  their  shoes,  and  fresh 
pipe  clay  on  their  belts ;  priests,  in  their  huge  black 
hats,  and  sombre,  capeless  cloaks ;  and  lastly,  friars,  in 
ample  robes  of  white  flannel :  —  such  was  the  mot- 
ley crowd  that  thronged  the  old-fashioned  streets  of 
Ronda,  reviving  it  for  three  days  from  the  dullness 
of  a  whole  year  of  monotony. 

On  the  outskirts  of  the  town  were  farmers  and 
peasants,  with  the  live  stock  which  they  had  brought 


RONDA    FAIR. 


39 


to  market,  stout  cattle  of  the  beautiful  and  vigo- 
rous breed  of  Andalusia ;  woolly  merinos  that  had 
been  reared  among  the  wild  hills  of  the  Sierrania ; 
and  rough,  wild  looking  hogs,  attended  by  swine- 
herds as  uncivilized  as  themselves,  attired  in  gar- 
ments of  sheep-skin  with  the  fleece  worn  outwards 
after  the  fashion  of  Robinson  Crusoe.  They  were 
equipped  with  a  cow's  horn  to  call  together  their 
grunting  herds,  and  a  long  staff  to  punish  or  com- 
pel the  refractory.  Many  spirited  horses  were  also 
to  be  seen  here,  which  their  owners,  to  display  their 
mettle,  were  spurring  about  the  field  or  reining  into 
impatience  by  means  of  powerful  bits. 

During  the  entire  three  days  of  the  fair,  Ronda 
was  a  mixed  scene  of  the  bustle  of  business  and  the 
mirth  of  a  holiday  revel.  Besides  the  ignoble  crowd 
of  blind  fiddlers,  guitarristas,  and  mountebanks,  the 
little  town  was  honoured  by  the  -presence  of  a  com- 
pany of  strolling  players,  who  entertained  the  Ron- 
danians  and  the  wondering  mountaineers  with 
nightly  exhibitions,  at  the  moderate  price  of  twelve 
cuartos  a  ticket.  The  play-bill  issued  by  these 
worthies  was  as  grandiloquent  as  the  annunciation 
of  a  Corrida  de  Toros  at  Madrid,  although  not  quite 


40  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

as  well  borne  out  by  the  performance.  To  com- 
plete the  happiness  of  the  people,  the  Amphitheatre 
of  the  Bull-fight  was  opened ;  and  six  fierce  and 
stately  bulls,  reared  on  the  wild  mountains  of  the 
Sierrania  of  Ronda,  were  tortured  and  slain. 

To  myself,  as  a  stranger,  Ronda  offered  other  at- 
tractions in  addition  to  the  animating  scenes  of  the 
Fair  and  the  heart-stirring  though  cruel  sports  of 
the  arena.  The  site  of  the  city  is  singularly  ro- 
mantic. It  stands  on  a  lofty  eminence,  and  a  moun- 
tain stream  runs  directly  through  it  at  the  bottom  of 
a  frightful  chasm,  which  one  grows  dizzy  by  gaz- 
ing into,  so  profound  and  headlong  is  the  descent. 
The  stream,  after  passing  through  the  town  by  this 
strange  channel,  cleft  through  the  solid  rocks  many 
hundred  feet  in  depth,  winds  round  the  side  of 
Ronda.  You  may  thus,-  after  seeing  it  from  the 
bridge  rushing  impetuously  a  wild  and  foaming  tor- 
rent through  the  chasm  of  the  Tajo,  take  another 
view  of  it  from  the  walk  of  the  Alameda,  as  it  flows 
with  lost  violence  a  thousand  feet  beneath  you. 
This  Alameda  is  a  lovely  spot ;  and  I  well  remem- 
ber the  feelings  of  blended  enthusiasm  and  melan- 
choly with  which,  by  a  fine  moonlight,  I  wandered 


JOURNEY    TO    GRANADA.  41 

along  its  quiet  walks,  pausing  at  intervals  to  listen 
to  the  mellow  notes  which  the  nightingale  poured 
forth  from  the  thick  foliage  of  the  trees,  or  to  gaze 
from  the  railing  along  the  edge  of  the  precipice  into 
the  fearful  abyss  below.  The  hour,  the  soft  and  pen- 
sive light  of  the  moon,  the  singular  mixture  of  the  wild 
and  the  beautiful  in  the  surrounding  scenery,  all  com- 
bined to  awaken  in  me  a  train  of  feeling,  a  some- 
thing compounded  of  the  joys,  the  sorrows,  the  en- 
dearments of  the  past,  which  every  one  perhaps, 
under  similar  circumstances,  has  sometimes  felt; 
but  which  is  too  deep,  and  at  the  same  time  too  in- 
definite, to  be  described. 


CHAP.  IV. 

JOURNEY   TO    GRANADA. 

I  CONFESS  I  felt  very  miserable  when  the  morn- 
ing arrived  on  which  I  was  to  take  leave  of  my  kind 
friends  from  the  frigate  to  pursue  my  journey  with 
strangers.  I  had  bought  a  horse  the  day  before, 
and  entrusted  him  to  the  care  of  Manuel  our  guide, 
4* 


44  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

with  orders  to  feed  the  beast  well,  and  have  him 
saddled  by  half  past  two  in  the  morning.  At  that 
hour  I  was  awakened  by  some  one  shaking  my  el- 
bow, and  starting  up  from  the  bed  and  rubbing  my 
eyes,  I  recognized  the  familiar  features  of  our  co- 
sario.  He  had  come  to  inform  me  that  the  hour 
appointed  for  the  departure  of  the  cavalcade  for 
Granada  was  approaching.  In  Spain,  as  the  dis- 
creet reader  may  suppose,  it  is  very  desirable  to  tra- 
vel in  large  parties ;  for  such  is  the  abundance  of 
robbers,  that  a  solitary  traveller  is  very  apt  to  lose 
his  baggage  and  money,  and  perhaps  get  a  sound 
drubbing  in  the  bargain.  For  this  reason,  which 
the  Spaniards  fully  appreciate,  people  going  in  the 
same  direction  cluster  together  like  sheep  when  the 
wolves  are  at  hand. 

Hurrying  on  my  clothes,  I  left  the  chamber,  where 
my  kind-hearted  naval  companions  remained  stretch- 
ed out  on  straw  pallets  spread  upon  the  plaister 
floor.  The  blankets  and  bed  covering  being  kicked 
about  in  grotesque  confusion,  showed  that  they  must 
have  been  sorely  beset  by  the  fleas.  Descending  to 
the  antesala  or  vestibule,  I  found  there  a  soldier 
and  two  or  three  shabby  fellows  in  the  common  cos- 


JOURNEY   TO    GRANADA.  43 

tume  of  the  country,  who  having  probably  been  up 
all  night  at  the  gambling  table  kept  in  the  adjoin- 
ing room,  were  now  consoling  themselves  for  their 
losses  with  a  paper  cigarillo.  Manuel  presently 
brought  my  horse  from  an  under-ground  stable  be- 
neath the  house,  and  leading  him  into  the  antesala, 
adjusted  the  heavy  Moorish  saddle  and  a  clumsy 
bridle,  with  a  bit  some  eight  inches  long.  So  power- 
ful a  curb  was  quite  thrown  away  upon  the  meek 
and  inoffensive  animal,  who  was  much  more  dis- 
posed to  stand  still  than  to  run  away. 

After  winding  my  way  through  the  dark  and 
narrow  streets  of  Ronda,  and  gaining  a  little  emi- 
nence in  the  suburbs  of  the  town,  which  had  been 
appointed  for  our  rendezvous,  I  found  assembled  a 
company  of  about  eighty  horsemen,  most  of  them 
well  mounted  on  spirited  horses  of  the  Andalusian 
breed,  and  many  carrying  "  escopetas"  or  carabines 
slung  at  the  backs  of  their  saddles.  I  never  saw  so 
picturesque  a  group.  The  common  dress  of  this 
part  of  the  country  is  a  beautiful  costume.  The 
Andalusian  wears  a  jacket  of  cloth  fancifully  em- 
broidered, and  adorned  with  a  profusion  of  rich  but- 
tons, with  flashy  breeches  to  correspond ;  gaiters  of 


44  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

unstained  leather,  with  abundance  of  dangling  loops, 
which  are  left  unfastened  at  the  calf ;  a  handkerchief 
of  some  gay  colour  round  the  neck,  and  a  rich  sash 
round  the  waist,  in  which  is  stuck  the  Spanish  knife, 
which,  besides  its  ordinary  use,  sometimes  answers 
a  deadlier  purpose.  Besides  the  sash,  the  Andalu- 
sian,  when  he  carries  his  "escopeta,"  also  wears 
round  his  waist  a  leather  belt,  in  which  he  keeps  his 
cartridges.  A  handkerchief  of  some  gaudy  pattern, 
with  the  ends  floating  loose  behind,  is  often  worn 
beneath  the  sombrero,  a  low  crowned  hat  with  the 
brim  turned  up  all  round,  and  gaily  trimmed  with 
beads  and  velvet.  These  people  are  almost  uni- 
versally well  formed,  and  have  a  graceful  and  even 
gentleman-like  carriage,  which  is  set  off  to  great 
advantage  by  their  beautiful  costume. 

Such  was  the  dress  and  appearance  of  most  of 
the  horsemen  whom  I  found  prepared  to  depart 
from  Ronda;  and  when  I  measured  with  a  hasty 
glance  their  numbers  and  determined  bearing,  I 
thought  the  robbers  must  be  very  bold  if  they  at- 
tempted to  molest  us.  Of  this,  however,  there  seem- 
ed to  be  some  chance ;  for  the  name  of  Jose  Maria, 
the  famous  bandit,  was  frequently  mentioned  in  an 


JOURNEY    TO    GRANADA.  45 

under-tone ;  and  the  rumour  was  going  round  among 
the  party  that  a  number  of  people  who  started  the 
day  before  for  Malaga,  had  been  attacked  and  plun- 
dered. 

The  sky  in  the  east  was  streaked  with  a  gray 
light,  which  announced  the  approach  of  day,  when 
our  party  began  to  move.  Our  road,  or  rather  path, 
led  over  an  open  heath ;  for  in  Spain,  as  in  France, 
and  I  believe  many  other  parts  of  Europe,  there  are 
in  general  no  fences  to  separate  one  man's  land 
from  another's,  or  the  public  highway  from  indi- 
vidual property.  As  we  receded  from  the  town  the 
marks  of  cultivation  became  less  evident,  a  circum- 
stance attributable  to  the  insecurity  of  property  and 
the  badness  of  the  police.  For  very  long  distances 
we  passed  on  without  seeing  a  house  or  cultivated 
ground ;  but  occasionally  meeting  flocks  of  sheep 
and  mares,  which  were  guarded  by  wild-looking  fel- 
lows, with  coarse  caps,  hempen  sandals,  and  sheep- 
skin jackets,  having  guns  on  their  shoulders  and 
long  knives  stuck  in  their  belts. 

After  riding  some  six  or  eight  miles  over  a  wild 
path,  intersected  here  and  there  by  small  rivulets 
which  we  forded,  for  bridges  were  rare,  we  came  to  a 


46  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

solitary  venta  or  inn,  where  we  halted  to  refresh  our 
horses  and  ourselves.  I  imitated  the  example  of  my 
companions  by  slackening  the  girth  of  my  saddle, 
and  slipping  the  bridle  over  the  neck  of  my  horse, 
tying  him  to  an  old  bone  driven  into  the  wall  of 
the  venta  for  that  purpose.  Then  finding  my  way 
through  groups  of  beggars,  peasants,  mules,  horses, 
and  asses,  into  the  interior  of  the  inn,  which  in 
Spain  is  the  common  asylum  of  man  and  beast,  I 
found  many  of  our  party  already  engaged  in  eating 
such  provisions  as  they  had  had  the  forethought  to 
bring  with  them.  Among  the  rest  were  two  Eng- 
lishmen, with  whom  I  had  formed  a  sort  of  ac- 
quaintance, and  who,  observing  that  I  had  not  cal- 
culated upon  the  scarcity  of  a  Spanish  venta,  invited 
me  to  share  with  them  a  cold  chicken  and  some 
bread  which  they  were  discussing.  Hungry  and 
tired,  I  did  not  wait  for  a  second  invitation,  but  sit- 
ting beside  them,  fell  to  work  on  the  contents  of 
their  alforjas  with  the  best  will  in  the  world. 

After  an  hour's  halt  we  all  mounted  our  horses, 
and  were  now  reinforced  by  some  twenty  dirty  sol- 
diers, who  were  going  to  Antiquera  to  join  their  regi- 
ment. These  were  dispatched  in  front  to  see  that 


ANTIQUERA.  47 

the  way  was  clear  of  banditti ;  while  their  colonel 
who,  in  a  cleaner  shirt  and  a  better  coat  would  have 
been  a  fine-looking  fellow,  rode  with  the  rest  of  the 
party.  With  so  many  carabines  in  our  own  band, 
and  with  the  muskets  and  bayonets  of  our  light  in- 
fantry, who,  though  a  ragged,  dirty  set,  would  doubt- 
less have  fought  valiantly,  it  would  have  been  the 
height  of  imprudence  for  the  banditti  to  have  attack- 
ed us.  In  truth,  towards  sun-down  we  reached  An- 
tiquera  unharmed.  It  happened  to  be  a  feast  day, 
and  many  of  the  inhabitants  were  walking  out,  some 
on  the  Alameda,  a  pretty  promenade  with  trees  and 
fountains  near  the  city  gate ;  others  on  the  road,  whi- 
ther they  had  come  to  meet  their  friends  on  their 
return  from  the  fair  of  Ronda.  The  girls  had  roses 
in  their  hair,  and  the  boys  wreaths  of  flowers  twist- 
ed round  their  sombreros.  There  was  an  air  of  ro- 
mance about  this  which  pleased  me  much,  in  spite 
of  hunger  and  fatigue ;  but  the  Arcadian  visions 
which  it  excited  were  presently  dispelled  by  the 
dirty  realities  of  the  posada  into  which  we  entered, 
driving  our  horses  beneath  the  wide  stone  portal 
into  the  open  quadrangle  round  which  the  house 
was  built.  Having  made  a  frugal  supper  on  bread 


48  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

and  tea,  reinforced  by  a  cold  ham,  we  lay  down  to 
sleep  on  beds  which  had  been  spread  for  us  on  the 
plaister  floor,  where,  thanks  to  our  fatigue,  we  were 
able  to  bid  defiance  to  all  our  inconveniences. 

The  next  morning  we  resumed  our  journey  with 
numbers  and  force  much  diminished,  for  we  now 
counted  but  three  carabines  and  an  old  pistol,  which, 
like  Don  Quixote's  pasteboard  visor,  was  better  cal- 
culated for  show  than  use ;  the  lock  being  so  out  of 
order  that  it  was  impossible  to  pull  the  trigger. 
However,  its  owner  hung  it  boldly  at  the  back  of  his 
saddle,  while  the  others  made  an  equally  conspicu- 
ous disposition  of  their  guns. 

Not  far  from  Antiquera,  we  came  to  the  Pena  de  los 
Enamorados,  from  which,  as  the  story  goes,  two  un- 
fortunate lovers,  a  Christian  youth  and  a  young  girl 
of  Granada,  had  thrown  themselves  on  being  closely 
pursued  by  the  parents  of  the  latter  with  a  troop  of 
Moorish  horsemen  from  that  city.  As  we  passed  the 
narrow  ravine  which  is  formed  by  a  stream  at  the 
foot  of  the  precipitous  rock,  I  confess  I  was  quite  as 
much  occupied  in  peering  about  among  the  crags 
and  bushes  /dr  robbers  as  in  sentimentalizing  on  the 
fate  of  the  ill-starred  pair. 


GRANADA.  49 

These  apprehensions  luckily  were  not  realized. 
We  rode  quietly  along  all  that  day  and  part  of  the 
next,  halting  at  intervals  where  a  hospitable  tree 
offered  its  shade,  or  a  fountain  refreshment.  We 
reached  the  lovely  and  fertile  Yega  of  Granada  at 
noon-day,  descrying  at  a  long  distance  the  white 
plaistered  houses  of  the  city,  the  rusty  towers  of  the 
Alhambra,  and  the  bold  Sierra  Nevada,  which  filled 
up  the  back-ground  of  the  picture,  its  snow-crowned 
summit  glittering  brightly  in  the  sun. 


CHAP.    V. 

GRANADA. 

THOUGH  the  Fonda  del  Comercio  at  Granada 
would  be  considered  a  poor  hotel  in  France  or  Italy, 
it  was  remarkably  good  for  a  Spanish  inn,  and  quite 
superior  to  any  thing  in  the  more  ambitious  capital. 
In  truth,  after  the  sorry  posadas,  where  man  and 
horse  had  been  accommodated  on  much  the  same 
footing  during  my  journey  from  Algesiras.  an  inn 
where  one  could  eat  in  a  different  room  from  the 
males  and  asses,  and  could  sleep  without  being  at- 

5 


50  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

tacked  by  hosts  of  foraging  fleas,  was  something  not 
to  be  lightly  considered.  Besides,  it  was  gay  and 
bustling,  especially  of  an  afternoon  ;  for  on  the  lower 
floor  was  a  pretty  cafe  in  the  French  style ;  and  thither, 
after  sleeping  the  siesta,  and  when  the  sloping  rays 
of  the  sun  no  longer  fired  the  atmosphere,  the  beaux 
and  belles  of  Granada  resorted  to  take  ices  made 
with  the  snow  of  the  silver-topped  Sierra  Nevada, 
and  drink  sherbets  of  the  rich  fruits  of  the  Vega.  It 
had,  too,  its  crowded  billiard-room,  where  I  have 
often  nestled  unobserved  in  a  corner  to  take  a  lesson 
in  Spanish  manners ;  for  no  where  does  the  Spa- 
niard unveil  the  peculiarities  of  his  carriage  and  cha- 
racter more  than  when  engaged  in  some  exciting 
sport. 

I  remember  being  attracted  one  Sunday  morning 
to  this  favourite  lounging  place  by  a  loud  and  excit- 
ed conversation,  intermingled  with  those  pithy  ex- 
clamations and  odd  bye-words  which  would  sound 
very  quaint,  and  not  always  very  delicate,  to  Eng- 
lish ears  in  a  translation.  The  table  was  surround- 
ed by  a  motley  group  of  common-place  cits  and 
fierce-looking  officers,  with  long,  well  curled  mus- 
taches, padded  coats,  and  unwieldy  oil-cloth  caps, 


THE    PRIEST    AND    MAJO.  51 

having  swords  at  their  sides  and  billiard  cues  in  their 
hands.  In  the  group,  too,  was  an  Andalusian  majo 
in  the  beautiful  costume  of  his  country,  and  a  stout 
priest  in  a  black  cassock  and  knee-breeches,  with 
his  ample  capeless  cloak  snugly  passed  under  the 
right  arm  and  thrown  up  over  the  left  shoulder,  so 
as  to  leave  free  room  to  handle  his  billiard  cue.  His 
pale  shaven  crown,  which  ought  to  have  reddened 
with  shame  at  being  seen  there  on  Sunday,  at  least 
during  the  hour  of  high  mass,  stared  us  unblushingly 
in  the  face ;  for  his  huge  hat  had  been  laid  aside 
lest  it  should  incommode  him  in  the  pious  perform- 
ances of  the  moment. 

They  were  playing  at  the  well-known  gambling 
game  of  pool,  and  the  parties  interested  were  all 
disputing  in  the  same  breath  about  a  stroke  that 
had  just  been  made.  Of  several  players  who  had 
started  in  the  game,  all  were  at  length  vanquish- 
ed by  the  superior  address  of  the  priest  and  the 
majo,  who  were  left  champions  of  the  field  and 
solitary  competitors  for  the  purse,  rich  with  the 
pistareens  of  their  hapless  comrades.  The  majo 
now  proposed  that  they  should  compromise  the 
matter  and  divide  the  spoil,  as  the  Holy  Alii- 


52  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

ance,  a  case  in  point  for  the  pious  padre,  once 
made  a  partition  of  Poland.  "  Quanto  dinero 
hay  ?" — "How  much  money  is  there?"  said  the  priest. 
"  Thirty  reals,"  replied  the  marker,  shaking  in  the 
air,  with  his  thumb  and  fore-finger,  a  little  silken 
purse,  through  the  netting  of  which  the  silver  peep- 
ed as  temptingly  as  a  pair  of  Spanish  eyes  through 
a  mantilla.  It  was  too  much  for  the  hungry  parson. 
"  Aut  Ceesar,  aut  nihil,"  he  seemed  to  say,  as  with  a 
contracted  brow  and  compressed  lip  he  poised  his  cue, 
and  prepared  with  great  caution  to  make  the  stroke, 
by  which,  if  successful,  the  entire  contents  of  the 
purse  would  be  transferred  to  the  capacious  sleeve 
of  his  cassock.  But  whether  his  eagerness  had 
shaken  his  nerves,  or  Fortune  had  determined  to 
punish  him  for  gambling  at  the  hour  of  high  mass, 
the  ball  of  his  adversary  rebounded  from  the  jaws  of 
the  pocket,  and  came  safely  to  a  halt  in  the  middle 
of  the  table. 

It  was  now  the  majo's  turn.  With  the  prompt- 
ness of  an  experienced  and  confident  player,  with  an 
Andalusian  grace  of  attitude  and  a  roguish  sparkle 
of  anticipated  success  beaming  from  his  keen  black 
eye,  he  darted  his  own  ball  swiftly  upon  that  of  his  an- 


SQ.UARE    OF    CAMPILLO.  53 

tagonist ;  the  rencounter  was  like  the  swoop  of  a  mis- 
chievous hawk  on  a  helpless  pigeon.  The  ball  of  the 
priest  suddenly  disappeared,  and  the  tinkling  of  a  little 
bell  announced  that  the  game  was  snugly  caught  in 
the  silken  toils  of  the  pocket.  The  disappointed  padre 
did  not  wait  to  seethe  reals  he  had  counted  for  his  own 
delivered  to  the  dextrous  majo  ;  but  snatched  up  his 
long  hat,  flirted  his  cloak  indignantly  over  his  shoul- 
der, and  muttering  between  his  teeth  "  maldita  sea 
la  for  tuna,"  hurried  away  in  high  dudgeon. 

The  hotel  was  bounded  on  two  sides  by  an  open 
place  called  the  Plaza  de  Campillo,  or  Square  of 
Campillo.  It  was  full  of  business  and  bustle  from 
the  dawn  of  day  till  a  late  hour  of  the  afternoon ; 
for  here  was  held  the  market  for  vegetables.  Long 
before  sunrise  the  industrious  peasants  arrived  with 
their  mules  and  asses  bearing  heavily  laden  pan- 
niers of  fruit  and  vegetables.  These  were  very  un- 
ceremoniously deposited  on  mats  of  esparto  spread 
on  the  earth :  and  here,  squatting  on  the  ground  in 
the  midst  of  their  merchandize,  and  protected  from 
the  broiling  sun  by  tattered  awnings  propped  by 
ricketty  poles,  they  kept  calling  out  the  live-long 
day,  and  singing  the  praises  of  the  various  articles 
5* 


54  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

which  they  had  for  sale ;  men,  women,  and  children 
joining  in  a  chorus  as  amusing  as  it  was  discordant, 
"  peas  !  peas  !  saw  you  ever  so  fine  1  lettuce  of  the 
best — chesnuts  fit  for  the  table  of  princes  !"  while 
busy  water-carriers  swelled  the  din  circulating 
among  the  tents,  and  constantly  crying  in  a  long- 
drawn  nasal  tone,  "  agua  fresca,  agua  del  avellano, 
agua  fria,  aqui  viene  mejor  que  la  nieve !" — "  fresh 
water,  cold  water,  water  from  the  fountain  of  the 
hazel  nut  tree ;  here  it  comes,  cooler  than  the  snow !" 
the  latter  an  exaggeration  very  common  among  this 
humble  profession  in  the  imaginative  land  of  Anda- 
lusia, but  which  I  do  not  remember  to  have  heard 
in  the  sober  Castile. 

At  another  end  of  the  Plaza,  apart  from  the  ven- 
ders of  vegetables,  were  daily  assembled  a  group  of 
sooty  colliers,  their  hands  and  faces  blackened  with 
their  dirty  ware  ;  and  sellers  of  lime,  who,  on  the 
contrary,  were  powdered  white,  like  so  many  millers. 
They  were  dressed  in  coarse  jackets  and  breeches 
of  brown  cloath,  with  their  sun-burnt  and  sinewy 
legs  either  naked  or  bound  with  coarse  leathern 
gaiters,  originally  white,  but  brought  by  time  and 
use  to  a  more  dingy  hue.  Their  hands  were  pro- 


SQUARE    OP   CAMPILLO.  OO 

tected  by  the  calafies  or  broad-brimmed  bonnet  of  An- 
dalusia ;  and  the  poorest  of  them  were  yet  not  too 
poor  to  be  cloaked.  Some  stood  higgling  with  a 
passing  customer,  and  others  were  stretched  out 
asleep  on  the  ground,  in  defiance  of  the  broiling  sun, 
against  which  they  entrenched  themselves  by  dis- 
appearing entirely  beneath  their  outspread  cloaks. 
As  for  their  mules  and  asses,  those  patient  com- 
panions of  the  Spaniard's  toil  and  privations,  some 
were  lying  on  the  ground  as  stiff  and  motionless  as 
if  death  had  taken  hold  of  them;  while  others  were 
standing  some  on  three  legs,  some  on  four,  with  their 
long  ears  drooping,  and  their  big  solemn  heads  hang- 
ing heavily  towards  the  ground,  as  demure  as  owls 
at  mid-day. 

I  was  amusing  myself  one  morning  with  looking 
out  from  my  window  upon  this  varied  scene  in  the 
Plaza  de  Campillo,  when  Pedro,  an  honest  Galli- 
cian,  who  filled  at  the  inn  the  indefinite  place  of 
valet  de  chambre,  valet  de  place,  cleaner  of  shoes, 
and  actor  of  all  work,  stopped  in  the  midst  of  brush- 
ing a  coat,  and  assumed  a  very  sorrowful  and  con- 
templative air,  as  if  he  had  some  very  bad  news  to 
impart  to  me.  "  What  is  the  matter,  Pedro  ?"  said 


56  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

I,  curious  to  know  what  distressed  him.  "Ah! 
Sefior,"  said  he,  "  this  is  a  sad  day  in  all  Granada, 
for  they  are  going  to  have  work  again  for  the  gar- 
rote,*  in  the  great  square  of  Elvira  ;  and  she  is  such 
a  handsome  lady  too,  and  so  young,  that  all  the 
world  is  heart-sick  about  it."  "  Will  you  take  me 
to  the  place,  Pedro '?"  "  Seiior,"  said  he,  "  you  had 
better  not  go,  for  it  may  be  badly  looked  upon  by 
the  police.  Besides,  people  say  in  whispers  that 
there  will  be  a  tumult,  though  nobody  dares  to 
speak  out  about  it ;  and  how  then  will  they  dare  to 
lift  a  hand  for  poor  Dona  Maria  ?  So  you  had  bet- 
ter stay  within  doors  this  morning.  But  if  your 
worship  must  go,"  said  he,  seeing  that  my  curiosity 
was  getting  the  better  of  his  admonitions,  "  you  have 
only  to  cross  the  Daro,  and  so  follow  along  with 
the  crowd  you  will  see  moving  that  way."  The  in- 
terest which  the  fact  of  a  young  and  beautiful  wo- 
man falling  a  victim  to  the  executioner  would  ne- 
cessarily excite,  even  in  the  heart  of  a  stranger, 

*  The  garrote  is  an  instrument  of  execution,  consisting  of  an 
upright  post  with  an  iron  collar  attached,  which  is  brought  into 
close  contact  with  the  post  by  means  of  a  lever  and  screw.  The 
neck  of  the  victim  is  put  into  this  collar,  and  then  a  turn  of  the  le- 
ver destroys  life  by  instant  strangulation. 


DONA    MARIA.  57 

made  me  curious  to  gather  the  particulars  of  a  sto- 
ry, which  I  obtained  partly  from  Pedro  and  partly 
from  other  sources. 

Dofia  Maria  de  Pineda  was  a  native  of  Spain, 
and,  I  believe,  of  the  gay  land  of  Andalusia.  •  Her 
parentage  was  respectable,  with  a  tinge  .of  noble 
blood ;  and  nature  had  endowed  her  with  personal 
beauty  and  mental  powers  above  the  common  stand- 
ard. She  had  been  married  at  an  early  age  to  an 
officer  in  the  Spanish  army,  by  whose  death  she  was 
left  a  widow,  but,  as  I  believe,  without  children. 
At  the  time  of  his  death  she  numbered  but  little 
more  than  twenty-five  years,  and  was  still  in  the 
possession  of  all  those  graces  of  spirit  and  person, 
which,  as  found  in  the  native  of  Andalusia,  are  ir- 
resistible. She  was  living  quietly  in  Granada,  un- 
der the  circumstances  I  have  mentioned,  when  one 
ill-omened  day  the  justicia,  that  terror  of  the  op- 
pressed Spaniard,  appeared  at  the  door ;  and  hav- 
ing demanded  admittance  in  the  name  of  the  Abso- 
lute King,  proceeded  to  search  the  house  in  which 
she  lived,  and  with  peculiar  jealousy  the  apartments 
which  the  unfortunate  Dona  Maria  occupied.  The 
scrutiny  of  these  detestable  commissioners  of  despo- 


58  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

tism — for  in  Spain  what  character  is  so  utterly  despis- 
ed and  so  utterly  despicable  as  that  of  the  Alguazil 
and  the  Escribano  ?  —  was  at  first  unsuccessful ;  but 
at  length  they  discovered  in  a  closet,  in  a  corner  ob- 
scurely lighted  and  well  suited  to  the  purposes  of 
concealment,  an  unfinished  piece  of  embroidery,  in 
the  form  of  a  pennon  or  standard,  and  bearing  those 
three  odious  colours  under  which  freedom  had  so 
recently  triumphed  in  France.  This  emblem  of 
emancipation  was  greedily  dragged  from  its  hiding- 
place  by  the  eager  justicia.  Its  being  found  in  her 
apartment  was  sufficient  to  stamp  her  as  a  traitor  to 
her  king  and  country ;  and  the  helpless  Dona  Ma- 
ria was  hurried  to  prison,  and  there  placed  in  rigo- 
rous confinement. 

The  reader  will  probably  remember,  that  about 
this  time,  that  is,  the  summer  of  1831,  there  was  a 
great  excitement  and  anxiety  on  the  part  of  the 
Spanish  government ;  for  not  only  had  the  late  suc- 
cessful struggle  in  France  roused  the  spirits  of  the 
heart-sick  friends  of  liberty  in  the  Peninsula,  but 
overt  acts  of  resistance  had  been  committed  by  the 
partisans  of  Torrijos  in  the  south  and  of  Mina  on  the 
northern  frontier.  The  governor,  too,  had  been  very 


DONA    MARIA.  59 

recently  assassinated  in  broad  daylight  in  the  streets 
of  Cadiz.  These  efforts,  ill-devised  and  worse  exe- 
cuted, while  they  injured  the  cause  they  were  in- 
tended to  foster,  rekindled  the  slumbering  fury  of 
absolutism.  Numerous  arrests  were  made  in  every 
part  of  Spain.  The  slightest  whisper  of  discontent 
became  treason,  and  suspicion  usurped  the  place  of 
evidence.  Fathers  were  torn  from  their  children, 
husbands  from  their  wives  ;  and  even  the  tender  sex 
was  included  in  the  anathema,  that  went  forth 
against  all  who  dared  to  lisp  the  word  or  even  think 
of  liberty. 

At  such  a  time  no  wonder  that  the  phials  of  the 
royal  wrath  should  be  poured  upon  the  head  of  one 
who  had  dared  to  harbour  the  odious  tricolour  of 
France.  To  answer  this  damning  charge  Dofia 
Maria  was  soon  brought  to  the  bar,  and  the  fact  of  the 
flag  having  been  found  in  her  apartment  being  esta- 
blished, she  was  condemned  to  death  as  guilty  of 
high  treason.  In  countries  that  have  wantonly  che- 
rished free  principles,  it  would  have  cost  a  world  of 
trouble  to  arrive  at  such  a  result ;  for  the  public 
prosecutor  would  have  been  put  to  the  idle  incon- 

»venience  of  proving  some  overt  act,  besides  com- 


60  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

bating  with  a  jury  of  the  criminal's  peers,  against 
the  womanish  principles  that  justice  should  be  ad- 
ministered in  mercy,  and  that  innocence  should  be 
presumed  until  guilt  be  established.  But  Spanish 
justice,  unembarrassed  by  those  benignant  notions 
by  which  human  life  is  guarded  in  other  countries, 
leaps  readily  over  the  feeble  barriers  of  common 
sense  and  humanity  ;  and,  strong  in  the  spirit  of  re- 
venge, thinks  only  of  the  outraged  rights  of  absolu- 
tism, which  proscription  has  sanctioned  and  the 
Divinity  himself  bestowed.  It  was  whispered 
among  the  terrified  Liberals  that  the  flag  had  been 
put  in  the  apartment  by  the  wary  hands  of  the  po- 
lice, 6r,  as  some  would  have  it,  at  the  instigation  of 
a  judicial  officer ;  who,  having,  like  the  foul-hearted 
Angelo,  looked  with  longing  eyes  on  her  beauty  and 
been  foiled  in  his  plans,  had  plotted  her  ruin.  But 
though  it  were  certain  that  the  police  had  commit- 
ted the  crime  it  affected  to  detect,  or  that  he  who 
was  appointed  to  punish  the  villany  of  others  was 
the  worst  of  villains  himself,  yet  who  would  dare  to 
stain  the  spotless  purity  of  a  Spanish  Alguazil,  or 
whisper  to  the  ear  of  royalty  the  profligacy  of  its 
own  delegate  !  The  fate  of  Dona  Maria  was  sealed 
beyond  the  possibility  of  redemption. 


DONA    MARIA.  61 

Convinced  of  the  hopelessness  of  pardon,  she  is 
said  to  have  looked  forward  to  death  with  quiet  for- 
titude. On  the  evening  before  the  fatal  day  which 
was  to  conduct  her  to  an  ignominious  execution, 
she  wrote  letters  to  her  dearest  relatives  and  friends, 
exhorting  them  to  bear  the  misfortune  which  await- 
ed them  with  the  same  energy  which  she  herself 
felt.  This  duty  occupied  her  till  a  late  hour  of  the 
night,  when  she  laid  down  and  slept  tranquilly  till 
the  morning.  When  she  rose  she  made  her  toilette 
with  more  than  usual  care,  arranging  her  hair  with 
her  own  hands,  and  adjusting  her  attire  as  delibe- 
rately as  if  she  were  not  going  forth  to  death,  but  to 
some  scene  of  holiday  enjoyment.  I  do  not  know 
how  she  received  the  exhortations  of  the  priesthood, 
who  in  Spain  are  always  at  hand  to  console  the  last 
moments  of  the  criminal ;  but  as  religion  is  deeply 
implanted  in  the  heart  of  the  Spanish  woman,,  and, 
in  forms  at  least,  exerts  a  strange  influence  over  the 
most  profligate  of  the  sex,  it  is  probable  some  of  the 
last  hours  of  one  whose  reputation  was  so  spotless 
were  devoted  to  holy  exercise.  When  the  fatal  hour 
of  mid-day  was  tolled  from  the  tower  of  the  cathe- 
dral, she  was  taken  out  of  the  prison,  placed  upon 

6 


62  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

an  ass,  as  is  the  custom  of  the  country,  and  being 
surrounded  by  a  strong  force  of  foot-soldiers  and 
cavalry,  was  slowly  conducted  through  the  silent 
and  awe-stricken  crowd  to  the  fatal  place  of  Elvira. 
Soon  after  mid-day,  prompted  by  a  curiosity  which 
the  reader  will  doubtless  condemn  as  unfeeling,  and 
which  I  could  with  difficulty  excuse  to  myself,!  start- 
ed from  the  inn  alone  in  quest  of  the  Square  of  Elvira. 
The  market-place  of  the   Plaza  de  Campillo  was 
now  almost  deserted.     The  hucksters,  the  carborie- 
ros,  the  sellers  of  lime,  and  the  noisy  water-carriers 
had  disappeared  ;  for  in  Spain  the  day  of  an  execu- 
tion or  a  bull-fight  is  taken  as  a  holiday  by  the  la- 
bouring classes.     A  very  narrow  and  crooked  street, 
whose  straitened  dimensions  bore  strong  evidence  of 
Moorish  times,  presently  brought  me  to  the  muddy 
rivulet  of  the  Daro.     Here  I  struck  upon  the  route 
by  which  the  sorrowful  procession  had  just  passed, 
as  was  evident  from  the  dejected  countenances  of 
the  women  and  children  collected  in  the  balconies. 
So  different  was  the  expression  on  every  face  from 
the  easy,  light-hearted  air  of  the  Andalusian,  that 
had  I  not  known  the  cause  of  this  temporary  change, 
I  might  have  thought  that  some  fearful  pestilence 


DONA    MARIA.  63 

was  ravaging  the  city,  or  that  a  hostile  army  was  at 
its  gates.  Though  quite  out  of  sight  of  the  place  of 
execution,  the  eyes  of  all  were  still  turned  in  that  di- 
rection, as  if  they  expected  to  see  the  dying  struggle 
and  hear  the  expiring  groans  of  the  condemned.  I 
passed  hastily  along,  half  ashamed  to  be  seen  going 
to  witness  so  horrible  a  tragedy.  After  turning 
and  winding  through  many  narrow  and  crooked 
streets,  directed  by  the  scanty  current  of  foot-pas- 
sengers, I  suddenly  emerged,  through  a  time-worn 
arch  or  portal,  upon  the  large  open  place  known 
as  the  Square  of  Elvira. 

Here  was  assembled  a  multitude  of  people,  who 
were  not.  however,  concentrated  in  one  dense  mass, 
but  scattered  in  groups  over  different  parts  of  the 
square.  They  were,  almost  without  exception,  of  the 
lowest  orders ;  for  the  better  classes  had  kept  withir- 
their  houses,  and  were  scarcely  seen  in  the  streets  dur- 
ing the  whole  morning.  There  were  grave  peasants 
wrapped  in  their  dusty  cloaks  in  defiance  of  the 
noonday  sun  ;  swarthy  black-haired  gipsies,  the  wo- 
men holding  ragged  children  by  the  hand,  or  infants 
slung  on  their  backs  ;  and  peasant  women  from  the 
Vega,  dressed  in  their  holiday  finery,  and  with  roses 


64  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

in  their  hair,  but  whose  countenances  accorded  bet- 
ter with  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion.  These  were 
blended  with  pale-faced  artisans  from  the  city,  and 
the  usual  materials  that  constitute  the  mass  at  such 
scenes  in  all  countries.  But  all  were  grave  and 
even  dejected.  Not  a  word  was  heard  but  the  dis- 
tant and  almost  inaudible  chant  of  a  monk  on  the 
scaffold.  The  importunate  beggar  had  ceased  to  ask 
for  alms,  and  even  the  garrulous  water-carrier  was 
hushed. 

All  eyes  were  directed  to  the  centre  of  the  square, 
where  a  wooden  platform  had  been  raised,  upon 
which  a  young  woman  was  seated  ;  her  dark  brown 
hair  was  smoothly  divided  over  her  pale  forehead,  and 
I  fancied  I  could  discern,  even  at  the  long  distance 
which  separated  us,  the  traces  of  that  beauty  which 
Lhad  heard  so  much  praised,  A  friar  of  the  order 
bf  mercy,  in  white  flannel  robes,  with  a  girdle  of 
rope,  a  long  rosary,  and  having  the  crown  of  his. 
head  shaven,  was  seen  holding  up  a  cross  before  her, 
upon  which  was  nailed  the  image  of  the  suffering 
Saviour.  Disposed  in  a  hollow  square  round  the 
platform,  to  cut  off  the  hope  of  rescue  or  escape,  a 
company  of  foot-soldiers  were  posted  with  fixed  bay- 


DEATH    OF    DONA    MARIA.  65 

onets ;  without  them  was  a  troop  of  cavalry,  their 
drawn  sabres  and  steel  caps  glittering  in  the  sun.  I 
had  scarcely  passed  some  two  or  three  minutes  in 
looking  round  upon  this  gloomy  scene,  when  a  man 
vulgarly  dressed  was  seen  to  ascend  the  platform. 
It  was  undoubtedly  the  executioner.  A  sensation  of 
heart-sick  misery  came  over  me  ;  for  an  instant,  in- 
deed, the  thought  flashed  upon  me  that  if  a  thou- 
sand, nay,  but  a  hundred,  resolute  arms  could  be 
raised  for  the  rescue,  that  unfortunate  woman  might 
live.  But  where  were  they?  She  had  but  a  few 
fast  fleeting  moments  left,  and  her  death  was  as  cer- 
tain as  the  course  of  yonder  sun  towards  the  moun- 
tains of  Loxa.  I  turned  sadly  away,  and  left  the 
Square  of  Elvira  without  daring  to  look  back. 
Very  soon  after  Dona  Maria  expired,  adding  another 
name  to  the  bloody  record  of  the  victims  of  Abso- 
lutism. 


66 


CHAP.   VI. 

GRANADA. 

THE  disagreeable  sensations  which  the  sad  scene 
of  the  morning  had  excited  haunted  me  all  day, 
and  I  longed  for  the  hour  of  the  Paseo  to  arrive, 
that  I  might  seek,  in  the  animation  of  the  Alameda, 
a  relief  from  the  melancholy  recollection  of  that 
cold-blooded  sacrifice.  As  I  passed  down  the  wide 
street  which  conducts  to  the  Alameda,  I  found  a 
number  of  convicts  employed  as  usual  in  sprinkling 
the  dusty  road  with  water,  which  they  dipped  in 
buckets  from  the  well-filled  gutters  on  either  side  of 
the  street;  for  no  city,  perhaps,  is  so  abundantly 
supplied  with  this  luxury  of  a  hot  climate  as  Gra- 
nada. The  Arabs  brought  the  taste  for  irrigation 
into  the  Peninsula ;  and  this,  like  many  of  the  cha- 
racteristics of  that  peculiar  people,  was  preserved  after 
their  expulsion.  These  convicts  wore  chains  on  their 
legs,  and  were  as  unprepossessing  in  their  appear- 
ance as  the  worthy  compeers  of  Gines  de  Pasamonte, 
who  repaid  with  ingratitude  and  hard  knocks  the 


THE    ALAMEDA.  67 

indiscreet  kindness  of  their  liberator  Don  Quixote. 
They  were  lazily  watched  by  one  or  two  soldiers  in 
slovenly  uniforms,  who  seemed  quite  as  intent  upon 
making  and  smoking  their  paper  cigars  as  upon  the 
security  of  their  ungracious  charge.  I  often  ex- 
pected to  see  these  hard-looking  subjects  of  Ferdi- 
nand slipping  round  a  corner,  and  eloping  from  his 
majesty's  bed  and  board,  which  was  hospitably  sup- 
plied them  in  one  of  the  time-honoured  towers  of 
the  Alhambra ;  an  idea  which  doubtless  occasion- 
ally occurred  to  themselves,  and  which,  I  dare  say, 
they  sometimes  even  put  in  practice. 

The  Granadians,  with  much  good  taste,  have 
formed  their  Alameda  or  public  promenade  along 
the  banks  of  the  Genii,  a  small  but  pretty  stream 
which  skirts  the  southern  side  of  the  city.  Its  wa- 
ters, cooled  by  the  melting  snow  of  the  Sierra  Ne- 
vada, refresh  the  air,  and  impart  a  healthy  verdure 
to  the  grass  and  foliage  along  its  quiet  banks.  The 
promenade  is  composed  of  three  long  parallel  walks, 
well  shaded  by  rows  of  trees,  from  whose  close  foli- 
age is  heard  the  frequent  note  of  the  nightingale, 
that  coy  songster,  who,  it  has  been  remarked,  de- 
lights to  sing  unseen;  a  proof  of  his  discretion, 


68  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

since  the  excellence  of  his  voice  forms  so  strong  a 
contrast  to  the  homeliness  of  his  person.  Three 
large  fountains,  one  at  either  end  and  one  at  the 
centre  of  the  main  path,  throw  up  jets  of  water, 
which  fall  in  scattered  spray  into  the  ample  basins 
below,  and  there  flow  along  the  sides  of  the  walks 
in  little  paved  channels.  At  frequent  intervals  stone 
seats  are  placed  for  the  accommodation  of  the  weary 
pedestrians ;  and  on  Sunday,  and  gala  occasions, 
when  a  crowd  is  expected,  chairs  are  provided, 
which  you  hire  for  a  quarto,  as  in  the  Tuilleries. 
But  where,  whether  in  the  charming  Tuilleries,  or 
the  Porto  of  romantic  Venice,  or  along  the  Arno  of 
Florence,  or  in  the  Casina  of  Naples,  where,  indeed, 
out  of  Spain,  and  where  in  Spain  better  than  at  Gra- 
nada, can  you  find  the  enjoyments  of  the  evening 
Paseo  ?  The  Spanish  woman  has  been  so  often  and 
so  well  described,  that  I  shall  not  venture  to  descant 
upon  that  greatest  attraction  of  the  Alameda,  the 
amiable  Granadina.  Not,  however,  that  I  was  in- 
sensible —  for  what  Stoic  could  be  ?  —  to  the  com- 
pact and  well-rounded  proportions  of  her  form,  to 
her  neat  little  foot,  to  her  black  eyes,  now  quiet  and 
languishing,  now  kindling  with  sprightliness  and 


THE    ALAMEDA.  69 

light,  to  the  elasticity  of  her  step,  to  the  seducing 
grace  of  her  motion ;  in  short,  to  that  bewitching 
combination  of  qualities,  both  of  character  and  per- 
son, which  attract  the  eye  and  heart  towards  the  wo- 
men of  Andalusia. 

Yet  these  syrens  of  the  fan  and  mantilla  were  not 
the  only  attractions  in  a  walk  along  the  bank  of  the 
Genii.  There  was  always  a  great  variety  of 
figures,  costumes,  and  equipages.  The  gallant 
Majo,  with  his  jaunty  jacket,  gayly  bedizzened  with 
gilded  basket  buttons  and  silk  cord,  with  his  red 
sash,  his  breeches  strung  with  buttons  at  either  side, 
his  white  leathern  gaiters  with  dangling  loops,  and 
his  graceful  sombrero  after  the  fashion  of  Yandyck, 
formed  a  singular  contrast  with  the  burly,  shuffling 
priest,  with  his  shaven  head,  and  solemn  dress  and 
demeanour.  There,  too,  might  be  seen  scores  of 
fierce-looking  officers,  with  faces  half  hid  with  whis- 
kers and  mustaches,  wearing  belted  swords,  and 
coats  thickly  padded  and  buttoned  to  the  throat.  In- 
termingled with  these  were  many  uninteresting  peo- 
ple in  the  dull  Frank  dress,  the  common  attire  of  the 
gentleman  all  over  Europe ;  besides  a  goodly  num- 
ber of  indefinite  looking  people,  hid  to  the  nose  and 


70  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

eyes  in  cloak  and  Andalusian  bonnet.  There  were 
also  beardless  students,  with  four-cornered  caps 
stuck,  as  if  nailed,  on  the  very  backs  of  their  heads, 
and  with  flowing  cloaks  of  coarse  black  cloth,  with  a 
red  cape  or  pelerine,  having  the  ends  passed  over  the 
shoulders  and  dangling  behind.  Add  to  these,  self- 
sufficient  corporals  and  sergeants,  with  wands  and 
sticks  in  their  hands,  badges  of  their  authority ;  pri- 
vates of  humbler  mien ;  ragged  gypsy  beggars, 
swarthy  as  the  Ethiopian,  with  black  elf  locks  un- 
combed, and  skins  grimed  with  dirt,  holding  in- 
fants in  their  arms,  which  they  thrust  under  your 
nose  to  excite  compassion  and  the  gift  of  a  cuarto ; 
and  others  of  the  beggarly  fraternity,  too  lazy  to  go 
about  asking  arms,  who  sit  in  the  bye-corners,  gaz- 
ing listlessly  upon  the  passing  crowd,  wrapped  in 
dirty  blankets  or  cloaks  full  of  rents  and  holes, 
through  which  the  daylight  peeps  in  upon  their 
bodies.  While  some  of  this  motley  concourse  walk 
slowly  up  and  down  the  smooth  walks  of  the  Ala- 
meda,  others,  more  indolent,  lounge  on  the  stone 
benches,  with  the  close  foliage  of  the  trees  over 
head  and  the  running  water  at  their  feet,  stopping 
tjie  passing  aguador  to  receive  the  cold  draught 


THE    ALAMEDA.  71 

from  the  delicious  fountain  of  the  Hazel-nut  tree 
with  the  accustomed  portion  of  sugar-plums,  or 
smoking  their  paper  cigarillos,  or  pure  cigars,  ac- 
cording to  the  thrift  or  extravagance  of  the  indivi- 
dual. Poor  children,  with  earthen  pots  in  their 
hands,  in  which  a  coal  of  fire  is  snugly  husbanded 
in  a  liberal  allowance  of  ashes,  hang  on  the  skirts  of 
these  parties,  to  pick  up  now  and  then  from  the 
smokers  a  quarto  or  ochavo. 

While  this  gay  scene  is  going  on  within  the  Ala- 
meda,  on  either  side  the  more  rich  and  luxurious  are 
seen  passing  slowly  up  and  down  in  long  lines  of 
carriages  of  every  shape  and  fashion,  from  the 
dashing  modern  landau  with  its  spirited  Andalusian 
horses,  to  the  antiquated  coach  of  Gil  Bias'  time, 
drawn  by  mules  with  jingling  bells  around  their 
necks,  and  driven  by  an  old-fashioned  postilion  in 
cocked  hat,  big  jack-boots,  and  long-tailed  livery 
coat  bedizzened  with  tarnished  lace  ;  the  whole  es- 
tablishment looking  as  though  it  might  have  figured 
in  the  days  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  or  even  at 
some  long-forgotten  ovation  of  Caesar  or  the  Cartha- 
ginian. 

After  loitering  in  this  agreeable  resort  till  the  eve- 


72  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

ning  hour  was  announced  by  the  tolling  of  the  bells 
from  church  and  convent  for  the  vesper  prayers,  I 
fell  in  with  the  retiring  crowd,  many  of  whom  di- 
rected their  steps  towards  the  pretty  cafe  of  our  Fon- 
da, or  towards  the  theatre  immediately  opposite,  whi- 
ther the  guard  for  the  evening,  with  an  officer  and  a 
little  drummer  at  their  head,  had  just  arrived. 

Though  the  Fonda  del  Comercio  was  a  tolerably 
agreeable  and  comfortable  place,  I  felt  the  necessity 
of  establishing  myself  in  private"  lodgings,  where  I 
should  constantly  have  the  conversation  of  Spa- 
niards, and  be  enabled  to  advance  myself  in  the  lan- 
guage. With  this  motive  I  applied  to  an  acquaint- 
ance, who  proposed  that  I  should  make  a  trial  of 
the  "  casa-de-pupilos"  or  boarding-house,  where  he 
was  himself  domesticated.  So,  the  next  morning 
we  started  to  look  at  my  future  lodgings.  Our 
road  lay  across  the  busy  Plaza  de  Campillo,  and 
then  through  the  wide  street  which  skirts  the  Daro, 
and  which  presently  brought  us  to  an  open  place 
called  the  Puerta  Real  or  royal  gate.  Here  in  the 
olden  time  might  once  have  been  a  city  gate  ;  but  I 
looked  as  vainly  for  one  now,  as  in  that  other  "  lu- 
cus  a  non  lucendo,"  the  Gate  of  the  Sun,  at  Madrid. 


ANDALUSIAN    QUARREL,  73 

This  little  place  or  square  seemed  to  belong,  by  pre- 
scriptive right,  to  the  peasantry  from  the  Vega,  who 
brought  for  sale  fresh-mown  grass,  green  rye,  and 
other  fodder  for  cattle.  It  was  always  filled  with 
these  people,  and  with  their  mules  and  asses  laden 
with  panniers  piled  high  with  this  sort  of  produce. 
The  privileges  of  the  place  were,  however,  divided 
with  certain  watermen,  who,  better  to  pass  in  the 
world  than  their  humble  brethren  of  the  Plaza  de 
Campillo  and  the  Alameda,  could  afford  a  mule  or 
donkey  to  carry  their  jars,  which  were  snugly 
covered  from  the  sun  with  leaf-clad  boughs  from  the 
forest  of  the  Alhambra. 

As  we  passed  through  this  crowd  of  loiterers,  two 
of  them  chanced  to  fall  into  a  dispute  about  some 
trifling  matter,  which  presently  kindled  into  a 
stormy  quarrel,  with  abundance  of  high  words,  ex- 
travagant oaths,  and  fiery  gesticulations.  I  looked 
momentarily  to  see  them  pull  out  their  knives  and 
embowel  each  other  ;  when  suddenly  they  grasped 
one  another's  hands,  and  went  off  the  best  friends  in 
the  world  to  the  neighbouring  inn  of  St.  Raphael  to 
drown  their  quarrel  in  a  stoop  of  wine.  This  hot- 
headedness  of  the  Andalusian,  which  threatens  much, 

7 


74  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

but  presently  wears  itself  out  by  its  own  fury  without 
serious  results,  is  much  ridiculed  by  the  cooler  Casti- 
lian,  who  accuses  his  southern  countrymen  of  cow- 
ardice, as  well  as  of  bragging  and  irascibility.  The 
satirical  and  sharp-witted  Q,uevedo  has  a  hit  at 
them  in  the  following  lines. 

"  Calo"  el  sombrero 

Requiri6  su  espada, 
Mir6  a  soslayo, 

Se  fu£  y  no  dijo  nada." 

In  passing  thegPosada  de  San  Rafael,  to  which  the 
two  loud-toned  Andalusians  had  retreated,  we  saw  at 
the  door  a  number  of  muleteers,  for  whom  this  place 
seemed  a  favourite  rendezvous.  Some  of  these  wor- 
thy roadsters  were  smoking  and  cracking  their  jokes ; 
some  were  acting  the  gallant  with  a  buxom  maid  of 
the  inn  ;  while  three  or  four  others  were  seated  at 
the  door  playing  cards  with  great  earnestness  round 
an  inverted  pannier.  As  we  continued  on  our 
way,  my  friend  pointed  to  a  rude  picture  upon 
the  wall  of  a  private  dwelling,  representing  some 
saint  whose  name  I  have  forgotten.  It  was  sur- 
rounded with  two-penny  tinsel  ornaments,  had  a 
lamp  at  the  side,  which  was  daily  trimmed  and  lit 
every  evening,  and  seemed  to  have  the  usual  reputa- 


CASA    DE    PUPIL08.  75 

tion  in  the  way  of  miracles  ;  for  several  votive  offer- 
ings in  wax  had  been  hung  up  around  it  by  the 
pious  hands  of  those  who  had  been  relieved  from 
disease  or  danger  through  the  interposition  of  the 
saint.  These  little  shrines,  erected  in  the  public 
streets  against  the  walls  of  the  houses,  are  very  com- 
mon all  over  Spain ;  and  Granada  has  a  goodly  share 
of  them. 

We  presently  arrived  at  the  lodgings  of  my  friend, 
and  entered  a  porch  paved  with  little  pebbles  dis- 
posed in  mosaic,  and  forming  a  rude  representation 
of  flowers  after  the  fashion  of  the  Moors.  Here  I 
encountered  a  stout  door,  well-studded  with  nails, 
and  having  a  little  window  at  the  top  crossed  with 
iron  bars,  through  which  the  family  within  might 
reconnoitre  the  visitor  before  trusting  him  beyond 
the  door-way.  On  knocking  at  this  sturdy  barrier, 
we  were  saluted  by  the  shrill  treble  voice  of  an  old 
woman,  demanding  from  above — "  who  is  it  ?"  We 
gave  the  usual  assurance  that  we  were  good  men 
and  true,  when  the  door  was  opened  by  a  sudden  jirk 
of  the  latch,  which  was  effected  by  a  long  string 
fastened  at  a  window  in  the  second  story.  Entering 
the  house,  we  found  it  contained  as  usual  an  open 


76  SCENES    TN    SPAIN. 

quadrangle  in  the  centre ;  in  the  middle  of  which 
stood  a  marble  basin,  which  received  the  water  of  a 
little  fountain.  On  the  right  was  a  stone  staircase 
leading  to  the  apartments  above,  while  on  the  left  was 
the  entrance  to  the  stable,  as  I  supposed  from  the 
munching  of  the  mules  within  and  the  jingling  of 
the  little  bells  on  their  harness.  However,  without 
stopping  to  inquire  more  particularly  into  the  truth 
of  this  conjecture,  we  ascended  the  stairs,  and  enter- 
ed a  large  room  paved  with  bricks,  and  furnished 
without  any  regard  to  ornament,  with  the  exception 
of  two  or  three  rough  engravings  of  the  Virgin  and 
Apostles.  The  windows  of  the  room  opened  upon 
iron  balconies,  in  one  of  which  sat  the  landlady,  a 
round  fat  little  body,  as  dumpy  as  a  sack  of  wheat ; 
who,  however  she  may  have  once  possessed  the  gra- 
ces of  Andalusian  beauty,  had  long  since  passed  the 
spring-time  of  her  charms.  In  her  obesity  she  was 
an  example  of  a  propensity  quite  common  among 
the  Spanish  women  after  a  certain  age,  who,  if  the 
Persian  monarch's  Chief  Holder  of  the  Girdle  of 
Beautiful  Forms  should  attempt  to  span  them  with 
his  measure,  would  be  generally  found  to  exceed  the 


DONA   JACINTA. 


77 


liberal  limits  of  Asiatic  gracefulness.*  Dona  Jacin- 
ta  received  us  with  a  profusion  of  courteous  com- 
pliments and  salutations  in  due  Spanish  form. 
When,  at  length,  after  this  preliminary  skirmish  of 
fine  words,  we  came  to  the  subject  of  my  visit,  the 
matter  of  board  and  lodging  was  speedily  arranged, 
and  I  retired  with  her  wishes  that  God  might  guard 
me  till  the  evening. 

At  the  hour  of  the  Oracion  or  evening  prayer,  she 
sent  a  soldier,  who  was  billeted^on  the  house,  to  bring 
my  baggage.  I  accompanied  him  to  the  house  ;  the 
door  was  opened  for  us,  after  the  usual  parley,  by  a 
young  and  pretty,  though  slovenly  Granadian,  a 
maid  of  all-work  to  Dona  Jacinta.  Wishing  to  in- 
sinuate myself  into  the  good  graces  of  so  important 
a  member  of  the  household,  I  asked  her  who  gave 
her  those  eyes  so  sparkling  and  black.  "  Su  majes- 
tad; !"  said  she,  gravely,  pointing  upward  with  her 
tittle*  fore-finger.  It  seems  odd  that  the  expression, 


*  Moore,  in  his  Lalla  Rookh,  says  that  there  was  such  an  officer 
among  the  attendants  of  the  king  of  Persia.  His  business  was  at 
stated  periods  to  measure  the  ladies  of  the  Haram  by  a  sort  of  regu- 
lation girdle,  whose  limits  it  was  not  thought  graceful  to  exceed.  If 
any  of  them  outgrew  the  standard  of  shape,  they  were  reduced;  by  ab- 
stinence till  they  came  within  bounds.  As  I  was  not  the  king  of 
Persia,  nor  Dona  Jacinia  one  of  my  Haram,  I  did  act  advise  the 
eld  woman  to  put  herself  on  diet. 

7* 


78  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

su  majestad,  his  majesty,  should  be  applied  indiffe- 
rently to  the  Deity  and  the  temporal  monarch. 
Thus,  whether  Ferdinand  be  approaching  on  the 
Prado,  a  signal  to  take  off  the  hat  in  token  of  loyalty, 
or  whether  the  consecrated  host  be  going  by,  to 
which  every  one  kneels,  in  either  case  you  would 
say,  "  su  majestad  viene," — his  majesty  is  coming. 

I  found  Dona  Jacinta  seated  in  the  balcony,  rest- 
ing from  the  fatigue  of  household  cares,  and  in  one 
of  her  most  loquacious  moods.  She  immediately 
attacked  me  with  a  world  of  questions  about  the  far- 
off  country  from  which  I  was  a  wanderer ;  con- 
cerning which,  its  customs  and  institutions,  she  had 
the  most  odd  and  confused  fancies,  though  in  some 
things  near  the  truth.  "Poor  Dona  Maria,"  said 
she,  crossing  herself  and  invoking  the  Virgin ;  "  had 
she  been  there,  she  would  not  have  suffered  death  for 
so  light  a  crime."  Then  checking  herself,  as  if  she 
had  ventured  on  dangerous  and  forbidden  ground, 
she  turned  the  conversation  to  indifferent  subjects. 
The  garrulity  of  this  ancient  fair  one  was  presently 
interrupted  by  the  loud  martial  roll  of  a  drum ;  the 
tambor  himself  soon  appeared,  with  his  top-heavy 
cap  of  oil-cloth,  and  his  coat  gaudily  striped  and  be- 


THE    HOST.  79 

dizzened  with  yellow  cotton  braid.  The  martial  strut 
and  attire  of  this  noisy  votary  of  Mars  was  singu- 
larly contrasted  by  the  procession  to  which  he  usher- 
ed the  way.  It  was  composed  of  friars  in  flowing 
robes  of  white  flannel ;  their  shaven  heads  exposed, 
without  cowl  or  hat,  to  the  evening  air,  and  of  a  mot- 
ley escort  of  men  and  boys  carrying  long  wax  ta- 
pers ;  while  in  the  midst  walked  a  priest,  bearing,  on 
an  embroidered  silk  napkin,  the  sacred  host  or  wafer 
which  he  was  going  to  administer  to  some  dying 
person.  "  Su  Majestad  !"  said  Dona  Jacinta,  drop- 
ping on  her  knees  in  the  balcony,  an  example  which 
I  followed  ;  while  the  people  in  the  street  halted  and 
knelt  upon  the  stones. 

The  sound  of  the  drum  was  scarce  lost  in  the  dis- 
tance, when  a  group  of  boys  and  girls  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  street  struck  up  the  merry  song  and  dance 
of  the  fandango,  which  they  accompanied  with  the 
tinkling  of  a  guitar,  and  the  lively  rattle  of  the  inspir- 
ing castanet.  These  poor  but  light-hearted  urchins 
were  the  children  of  a  pains-taking  little  tailor,  who 
might  be  seen  from  dawn  till  vespers  plying  his 
needle  and  goose  with  an  honest  industry,  of  which 
his  numerous  brood  fully  explained  the  necessity. 


80  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

Even  now,  though  the  evening  was  well  advanced,  he 
did  not  lounge  at  the  porch  as  is  the  general  wont 
of  the  Spaniards  in  the  sultry  evenings  of  sum- 
mer, but  kept  plodding  on,  stitch  after  stitch  and 
seam  after  seam,  with  praiseworthy  perseverance. 
Doubtless,  though  his  industry  was  unremitting,  his 
gains  were  scanty  ;  for  he  did  not  count  the  dandies 
of  Granada  among  his  customers,  but  practised  his 
art  in  an  humble  sphere,  making  coarse  jackets,  and 
velvetine  breeches,  and  sheepskin  garments  far  the 
peasantry.  From  time  to  time,  however,  he  wou-ld 
pause  to  cast  a  contented  glance  upon  the  'well- 
pleased  group  in  the  street,  who  were  too  young  to 
care  about  poverty  and  other  worldly  troubles.  In 
the  intervals  of  the  dance,  the  Arion  of  the  party,  a 
stout  lad  who  might  have  seen  some  sixteen  sum- 
mers, and  had  begun  to  have  some  inkling  of  the  ten- 
der sentiment,  sang  little  amorous  snatches,  some  of 
which  he  perhaps  improvised,  a  common  thing  in 
this  imaginative  country;  whilst  the  others  were 
doubtless  borrowed  from  the  national  stock.  Now 
and  then,  with  the  assistance  of  the  more  practised 
ear  of  Dona  Jacinta,  I  could  follow  the  words  of  the 
various,  couplets : 


THE    FANDANGO.  81 

"  No  me  mires — que  miran 

due  nos  miramos, 

Y  en  el  mirar  conocen 

due  nos  amamos. 

"  Me  quisiste,  me  olvidaste 

I  me  vuelves  a  querer 
Zapato  que  yo  desecho, 
No  me  lo  vuelvo  a  poner. 

"  For  esta  calle  me  voy 

Y  por  la  otra,  dare  la  vuelta; 
La  nina  que  bien  me  quiere 
Me  tendra  la  puerta  abierta." 

The  fandango  is  one  of  those  accommodating 
sort  of  tunes  that  fit  themselves  to  any  vein,  gay  or 
plaintive,  witty  or  sentimental,  modest  or  equivocal ; 
to  court  a  mistress  or  cheer  a  horse,  'tis  all  one 
with  this  darling  ditty  of  the  Spaniard.  As  I  have 
just  hinted,  the  words  which  the  lower  classes  sing 
to  it,  though  they  have  almost  always  some  spice  of 
imagination  or  wit,  are  not  always  as  morally  unex- 
ceptionable as  those  trolled  forth  to  the  rude  accom- 
paniment of  his  guitar  by  the  son  of  the  tailor.  A 
propensity  to  run  into  gross  allusions  in  singing  the 
fandango  or  bolero,  was  indeed  a  failing  in  this  warm- 
blooded race  as  long  ago  as  the  time  of  the  sagacious 
Sancho.  The  reader  may  remember,  that  among 


82  SCENES    IN   SPAIN. 

the  discreet  ordinances  made  by  that  renowned  go- 
vernor of  the  island  of  Barataria,  was  an  imposi- 
tion of  the  severest  penalties  on  such  as  should  sing 
immodest  and  loose  songs,  be  it  by  night  or  by  day. 
When  I  grew  weary  of  the  dance  and  song  of  the 
tailor's  children,  and  found  that  even  the  conversa- 
tion of  the  garrulous  Dona  Jacinta  was  no  charm 
against  drowsiness,  I  requested  her  to  show  me  to 
my  chamber.  She  accordingly  led  the  way  through 
several  apartments,  till  we  at  length  arrived  at  the 
tile-floored  chamber  destined  for  her  new  guest. 
Here  she  installed  me  with  a  profusion  of  Spanish 
compliments,  closing,  meanwhile,  the  window  that 
opened  upon  the  balcony,  and  fastening  it  with  bolt 
and  bar.  Not  understanding  this  odd  mano3uvre  of  a 
hot  summer's  night,  I  began  to  protest  against  the 
confinement ;  but  she  insisted  upon  it,  saying  that 
evil-minded  people  might  climb  up  into  the  balcony 
to  rob  me.  This  notion  was  not  a  mere  bug-bear  of 
the  old  woman's  imagination.  I  recollect  one  day 
hearing  a  fellow-lodger,  a  man  of  good  nerves,  who 
had  served  in  the  army  and  seen  hard  service,  rating 
his  servant  soundly  for  having  left  his  balcony  un- 
closed after  he  had  retired,  vowing  by  the  Holy 


THE    SERENO.  83 

Virgin  of  the  Rosary  that  he  might  have  been  plun- 
dered or  made  away  with.  Having  completed  these 
cautious  arrangements,  Dona  Jacinta  left  me,  saying 
as  she  closed  the  door,  "Queusted  descanse," — "a 
good  rest  to  you." 

The  hour  of  eleven  was  presently  tolled  from  the 
tower  of  the  cathedral,  and  the  sereno  or  watchman 
was  crying  it  at  the  top  of  his  lungs  ;  "  Ave  Maria 
purisima,  las  once  y  sereno  ;" — "  Hail  Mary  most 
pure,  eleven  o'clock,  and  the  night  is  clear."  I  was 
told  that,  in  a  little  village  not  far  from  Granada, 
the  watchman,  besides  the  address  to  the  Virgin,  adds 
the  loyal  exclamation  of  "  Viva  el  Rey  Absolute," — 
"  long  live  the  absolute  King."  However  that  may 
be,  these  words,  so  obnoxious  to  liberal  ears,  are  but 
too  familiar  to  the  oppressed  Spaniard.  I  remember 
seeing  them  conspicuously  painted  over  the  door  of 
a  guard-house  in  Malaga.  These  pious  serenos  of 
Granada  patrol  the  streets  through  the  night,  bearing 
a  lantern  in  one  hand  and  a  short  steel-pointed  pike 
in  the  other.  They  chant  the  invocation  to  the 
Virgin  and  the  hour  in  a  high,  distinct  voice ;  and 
the  effect,  when  heard  in  the  deserted  streets  at  the 
dead  hour  of  night,  is  quite  agreeable. 


84  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

My  slumbers  that  night  were  disturbed,  however, 
by  a  more  accomplished  musician,  who  had  come  to 
serenade  his  lady-love  in  a  house  hard  by.  When  I 
heard  the  clear  tones  of  his  manly  voice  and  the 
tinkling  of  his  guitar,  I  undid  the  bolts  and  bars 
which  Dofia  Jacinta  had  so  snugly  fastened,  and 
opening  the  window  as  quietly  as  possible,  saw  a 
young  man  standing  at  a  little  distance  beneath  a 
balcony ;  while  a  slight  jar,  and  a  window  gently  un- 
closed above,  proved  that  his  gallantry  was  not  un- 
noticed by  the  fair  one  to  whom  it  was  addressed. 
He  was  attired  in  the  gay  and  beautiful  costume  of 
the  Andalusian  Majo,  and  sang  a  tune  then  in  great 
vogue  to  the  delicate  accompaniment  of  his  guitar, 
which  was  suspended  by  a  ribbon  over  his  shoulder. 
He  probably  was  not  aware  that,  in  a  balcony  so 
near  him,  a  stranger  was  eaves-dropping  to  those 
notes  which  he  poured  forth  so  feelingly;  and 
doubtless  supposed  that  he  was  only  seen  by  the 
black  eyes  of  his  mistress,  and  by  the  chaste  moon 
that  looked  quietly  down  upon  him.  The  song  was 
in  a  plaintive  vein,  and  ran  as  follows  : 

"  Lejos  de  ti,  no  hay  dicha  con  qui  pueda 
Tranquilizar  mi  amante  corazon, 
Y  el  solo  bien  que  a  un  misero  le  resta 
Es  el  placer  de  su  infeliz  pasion." 


FELLOW-LODGERS.  85 

"  Dulce  pesar  que  a  lagrimas  excita 
Al  recordar  los  gozos  del  placer — 
Gluando  el  amor  mis  lagrimas  excita 
Lloran  y  amares-solo  mi  placer." 

In  the  course  of  the  next  day  I  broke  the  ice  of 
acquaintance  with  my  fellow-lodgers,  whom  I  found, 
though  plain  and  unpolished,  yet  kind  people,  and 
possessing  that  politeness  of  the  heart  which  is 
worth  so  much  more  intrinsically  than  the  varnish- 
ed surface  of  high  breeding.  One  of  them,  a  phy- 
sician, Don  Pedro  by  name,  had,  in  the  time  of  the 
constitution,  been  one  of  the  surgeons-in-chief  of  the 
Spanish  army ;  and  besides  his  high  rank,  had,  nomi- 
nally at  least,  good  pay  and  emoluments.  But 
when  the  constitution  was  overthrown,  he  was 
stripped  in  a  twinkling  of  his  ephemeral  dignity, 
stamped  with  the  odious  brand  of  Liberalism,  re- 
strained from  the  practice  of  his  profession,  perse- 
cuted by  the  government,  and  sent  hither  and  thither 
to  reside  at  the  discretion  of  the  police.  For  a  long 
while  he  remained  in  this  distressing  state  of  re- 
straint and  inactivity  ;  in  other  words,  he  was  an  im- 
purificado,  or  unpurified,  from  the  horrid  crime  of 
loving  liberty.  When  at  length  he  obtained  this  puri- 
fication, or  washing  away  of  his  political  sins,  he 
8 


86  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

was  still  excluded  from  the  public  service,  though 
graciously  permitted  to  practise  his  profession  as  a 
private  individual,  residing,  however,  at  such  places 
as  the  government  should  dictate.  He  once  showed 
me  the  license,  headed  by  the  name  and  high-sound- 
ing titles  of  some  swelling  dignitary  of  the  state, 
whereby  permission  was  granted  for  a  specified  pe- 
riod to  Don  Pedro  Purgativo  to  remain  in  Grana- 
da, and  pursue  the  occupation  of  medico  or  doctor. 
Though  he  had  suffered  severely  by  this  systema- 
tized oppression,  he  bore  the  burden  patiently 
enough ;  for  he  had  gone  to  school  to  misfortune, 
and  had  learned  circumspection.  It  was  only  when 
we  were  alone  that  he  would  sometimes  break  out 
into  bitter  murmurings  against  the  iron  rod  that 
smote  him.  He  was  a  man  of  an  intelligent  mind,  and 
of  much  goodness  of  heart  and  honesty  of  purpose. 
This,  indeed,  I  had  occasion  to  test  in  my  own  case  ; 
for,  having  been  attended  by  him  for  a  few  days 
while  indisposed,  he  declined  to  charge  for  his  ser- 
vices, saying,  "  Amigo,  asi  no  se  trata  con  un  ex- 
trangero," — -"My  friend,  one  does  not  stand  upon  those 
terms  with  .a  stranger."  It  was  only  by  absolutely 
insisting  upon  it  that  I  prevailed  upon  him  to  .accept 
a  small  compensation. 


FELLOW-LODGERS.  87 

Another  of  our  lodgers  was  a  merchant  of  Car- 
thagena,  who  had  come  to  Granada  for  commercial 
purposes.  He  was  a  man  of  ardent  temperament, 
and  thoroughly  imbued  with  liberal  notions,  for 
which  he  was  in  some  measure  indebted  to  a  two 
years'  residence  in  France  ;  but  more,  perhaps,  to  his 
own  shrewd  perceptions  of  right  and  wrong.  He 
was  a  ready,  though  blunt  man  in  conversation ; 
and,  I  doubt  not,  a  shrewd  hand  at  driving  a  bar- 
gain. There  were  also  two  officers  of  the  army ; 
one  an  ensign,  a  quiet  Castilian  of  much  grave  cour- 
tesy in  his  manners,  and  apparent  goodness  lof 
heart.  He  never  talked  of  political  subjects  directly ; 
but  I  could  not  help  thinking  him  to  be  a  Liberal  at 
bottom,  though  fed  and  paid  by  the  Absolute  King. 
The  other  officer  was  a  captain ;  a  shy,  reserved 
man,  who  was  so  bewildered  with  an  affair  of  the 
heart  with  a  pretty  Granadina  who  lived  just  oppo- 
site to  us,  that  apparently  he  had  neither  eyes  nor 
ears  for  his  own  sex.  Dona  Jacinta,  who  was  a 
great  gossip,  told  me  he  had  taken  her  rooms  be- 
cause the  balconies  were  so  near  those  of  his  mis- 
tress, that  he  might  toss  a  billet-doux  into  her 
window,  or  hold  ^a  half- whispered  parley  with  her 


88  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

when  unobserved  of  an  evening.  Poor  fellow ! 
This  was  as  near  as  he  could  approach  her,  since 
the  father  of  his  dulcinea  frowned  on  his  addresses, 
and  had  even  proscribed  his  visits  to  his  lady-love. 
As  usually  happens,  these  obstacles  stimulated  his 
passion,  as  a  torrent  foams  and  frets  itself  most 
where  its  career  is  most  obstructed.  He  seemed  de- 
termined to  go  on  with  the  matter ;  though  when  I 
left  Granada,  he  had  made  no  ostensible  progress  be- 
yond the  daily  ogling  from  the  window,  and  a  word 
now  and  then  of  an  evening  from  the  balcony. 
Time  seemed  to  make  no  impression  on  the  obdu- 
rate heart  of  the  cross-grained  parent.  This  senti- 
mental attachment  had  not,  however,  prevented  him 
from  cultivating  the  good-will  of  a  certain  Maritor- 
nes  of  the  casa  de  pupilos,  whose  blooming  cheeks 
and  buxom  figure  had  caught  the  eye  of  this  son  of 
Mars.  But  respecting  this  by-play  of  his  flirtations, 
I  forebore  to  press  inquiry. 

There  was  also  a  chaplain  in  the  army,  whose 
only  pretensions  to  godliness  were  comprised  in  his 
title ;  and  a  gay  Murcian,  a  young  fellow  of  very 
handsome  person  and  mercurial  temperament,  whom 
early  misfortune  had  made  shrewd  and  prudent 


FELLOW-LODGERS.  89 

without  having  poisoned  his  good-humour  and  hila- 
rity. Having  taken  the  liberal  side  in  politics  at  a 
very  youthful  age,  he  had  made  himself  so  ob- 
noxious to  the  despotic  party,  that  when,  after  the 
overthrow  of  the  constitution,  they  put  in  the  sickle 
and  cut  down  the  harvest,  he  too  was  marked  as  a 
victim.  He  had  been  actually  marched  out  with 
some  other  unfortunates  to  be  shot ;  when,  while  he 
thought  but  a  few  moments  of  life  left  him,  there 
came  a  partial  remission  of  punishment,  and  he  was 
consigned  to  a  prison  in  Africa.  After  leading  for 
a  long  time  in  his  confinement  a  life  of  great  mise- 
ry and  privation,  the  period  of  his  imprisonment 
was  curtailed,  and  he  returned  once  more  to  Spain, 
and  became  a  merchant.  Though  the  government 
had  ceased  to  persecute  him,  he  still  felt  uneasy  and 
jealous  of  it.  He  avoided  every  thing  that  could 
attract  the  evil  eye  of  the  police ;  and  when  he  went 
to  cafes  and  other  places  of  public  resort,  he  would 
attach  himself  to  some  officers  of  the  army  whom  he 
knew,  that  thus  being  seen  with  those  whose  loyalty 
was  stamped  on  their  buttons  and  blushed  in  their 
red  cockades,  he  might  himself  pass  muster  as  a 
friend  of  Ferdinand.  Let  not  the  reader  condemn 
8* 


90  SCENES    IN   SPAIN. 

such  venial  acts  of  hypocrisy,  if  he  has  not  seen 
how  uncomfortably  the  head  of  a  liberal  sits  on  his 
shoulders  in  a  despotic  country. 

To  generalize  the  character  of  these  my  fellow- 
lodgers,  whom  I  have  thus  attempted  to  describe  in  de- 
tail, I  may  say  that  they  had  that  tact  and  sprightliness 
of  conversation  which  distinguishes  the  Spaniard ; 
that  they  all  treated  me  with  the  kindness  and  at- 
tention which  a  stranger  is  ever  sure  to  receive  in 
Spain ;  that  they  were  lovers  of  liberty,  and  sighed 
over  their  national  degradation,  and  were,  to  a  man, 
endless  smokers  of  cigarillos. 


CHAP.    VII. 

THE    ALHAMBRA. 

IN  the  Alhambra,  the  far-famed  palace  of  the 
Moors  at  Granada,  lived  an  old  captain  of  Invalids ; 
who,  besides  the  command  of  some  twenty  or  thirty 
worn-out  soldiers,  was  also  invested  with  the  charge 
of  the  ruins.  This  veteran  had  served  a  great  many 
years  in  the  army  of  the  Absolute  King,  and  had  re- 


INVALID    CAPTAIN.  91 

ceived  his  share  of  the  toils  and  hardships  of  war. 
When  a  stripling  of  fourteen  years,  he  was  wander- 
ing one  afternoon  in  the  streets  of  Barcelona,  where 
his  family  lived,  when  there  came  by  a  marching 
officer,  with  a  drummer  and  a  pack  of  raw  warriors 
at  his  heels.  Of  a  sudden  the  Wicked  One,  or  mayhap 
his  good  genius,  put  it  into  the  boy's  head  that  it 
was  a  very  fine  thing  to  strut  with  musket  and  bayo- 
net to  the  sound  of  the  drum.  He  joined  the  party 
forthwith,  and  without  the  license  of  his  parents  or 
bidding  them  farewell,  marched  off  the  same  day 
to  a  neighbouring  village.  Fortune,  after  playing 
him  various  pranks,  delivered  him  up  a  prisoner 
into  the  hands  of  those  Philistines,  the  French, 
against  whom  his  countrymen  fought  so  stoutly  in 
the  time  of  Napoleon.  He  remained  in  durance  two 
years,  suffering  many  hardships  and  privations, 
until  he  was  taken  by  the  English  and  sent  to 
London  with  some  other  Spanish  officers,  whence 
they  at  last  returned  to  their  much  loved  and  long 
lost  Spain.  After  a  protracted  service,  his  fidelity 
was  at  last  rewarded  with  a  captaincy,  and  he  was 
sent  to  spend  the  remnant  of  his  days  in  the  peace- 
ful security  of  the  Alhambra. 


92  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

The  captain  had  invited  me  one  day  to  come  to 
breakfast  with  him  at  his  lodgings  in  the  old  Moor- 
ish tower  of  the  Tribunal,  after  which  he  was  to  be 
my  cicerone  in  visiting  the  ruins.  This  offer  I 
gladly  accepted,  and  retiring  to  bed,  begged  Dona 
Jacinta  to  call  me  betimes.  The  punctual  old  lady 
came  at  sunrise  to  unbar  the  sturdy  shutters,  and  let 
in  the  light  and  the  fresh  breath  of  the  morning. 
As  I  have  already  said,  she  had  stoutly  opposed  my 
desire  to  leave  the  window  open,  and  thus,  though 
secure  from  robbery,  I  was  roasted  to  death  by  the 
midsummer  heat.  To  stay  my  stomach  for  the 
morning's  walk,  she  brought  with  her  a  cup  of  cho- 
colate, a  comfortable  refreshment  often  taken  by  the 
Spaniards  before  rising. 

My  route  to  the  Alhambra  carried  me  by  the  rusty 
convent  and  church  of  St.  Anthony.  By  the  light 
of  the  tall  wax  tapers  that  burned  at  the  grand  altar, 
a  few  devotees  might  be  seen  kneeling  on  the  pave- 
ment at  their  matin  prayers  ;  while  at  the  porch  sat 
a  gray-haired  beggar,  whose  long  white  beard  de- 
scended to  his  breast,  and  whose  coarse  and  tattered 
cloak  was  patched  with  as  many  colours  as  the  Pa- 
triarch's tunic.  He  extended  his  hat  to  me  as  I 


PUERTA    REAL. 


93 


passed,  saying,  "  Cavalier,  give  me  a  little  alms  for 
the  love  of  God  and  the  blessed  Saint  Anthony." 
So  devout  a  supplication  was  worth  a  cuarto  to  say 
the  least  of  it.  As  I  dropped  one  into  his  hat,  he 
bade  me  go  in  a  happy  hour ;  adding,  "  May  God 
pay  you  for  it,  and  the  Saint  of  the  day !" 

The  Puerta  Real,  through  which  I  presently 
passed,  had  not  yet  assembled  its  noisy  crowd  of 
peasants  from  the  Vega  and  aguadores  from  the 
fountain  of  the  Hazel-nut  tree.  It  was  now  occu- 
pied by  a  herd  of  goats,  with  two  or  three  she-asses, 
attended  by  a  goat-herd,  attired  in  a  faded  brown 
cloak,  leathern  gaiters,  and  shoes  or  buskins  of  pack- 
thread. These  herds  are  driven  about  the  streets 
during  the  morning,  stopping  to  be  milked  at  the 
doors  of  their  customers ;  and  in  the  evening  are 
pastured  in  the  Vega  or  on  the  neighbouring  hills. 
The  milk  of  cows  is  not  much  used  in  Spain,  and 
butter  is  a  luxury  very  little  known.  The  strong 
oil  of  the  country  is  employed  in  its  stead,  and  is  the 
universal  sauce  which  the  lower  classes  use  in  com- 
pounding their  greasy  ollas  and  pucheros. 

From  the  Puerta  Real  I  passed  through  the  busy 
Plaza  de  Campillo,  and  thence  along  several  crooked 


94  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

streets,  some  of  them  so  narrow  that  one  might 
touch  the  houses  on  either  side  with  the  extended 
arms.  It  was  the  fashion  of  the  Moors  to  give  their 
streets  a  very  scanty  width,  in  order  to  exclude  as 
much  as  possible  the  scorching  rays  of  the  sun.  All 
the  Spanish  cities,  which  were  originally  erected  by 
them,  still  bear  testimony  to  the  Morisco  taste  in 
their  old  quarters  ;  but  none,  perhaps,  has  undergone 
less  change  in  this  particular  than  Granada.  I 
came,  at  length,  to  the  street  which  leads  to  the  gate 
of  the  Alhambra.  There  the  houses  were  very  old  ; 
the  windows  grated  with  strong  iron  bars;  the  doors 
studded  with  sturdy  nails ;  and  here  and  there  was 
a  shrine  on  the  wall,  with  a  rude  painting  of  the 
Madonna,  a  lamp,  and  a  small  iron  box  below  to  re- 
ceive the  offerings  of  devout  persons.  In  this  street, 
too,  was  a  sad,  sombre  building  of  dark  stone, 
which,  from  its  general  aspect  and  the  strength  of 
the  gratings,  I  at  first  supposed  to  be  a  prison.  In 
truth  it  was  so,  though  not  of  the  sort  I  had  ima- 
gined. Here  were  incarcerated  a  sisterhood  of  nuns, 
whose  voices  we  now  heard  chanting  their  matin 
devotions.  An  involuntary  sadness  always  came 
over  me  when  I  saw  those  prisons,  not  of  the  per- 


THE    ALHAMBRA.  95 

son  only,  but  of  the  mind  and  the  affections.  If  one 
could  go  into  every  convent,  and  write  down  from 
the  lips  of  the  inmates  the  story  of  their  past  and 
present  feelings,  what  a  sad  recital  it  would  be 
of  blighted  hopes,  of  smothered  affections,  of  tedious 
days,  and  nights  spent  in  watchfulness  and  tears  ;  of 
unhappiness,  in  short,  in  many  instances  the  cause, 
in  too  many  the  consequence,  of  seclusion. 

The  gate  by  which  you  enter  the  grounds  of  the 
Alhambra,  though  moss-grown  and  discoloured  by 
time,  is  evidently  of  a  much  later  date  than  the  Al- 
hambra itself;  for  its  style  of  architecture,  plain 
and  unadorned,  is  altogether  different  from  the  light 
and  fanciful  Arabesque.  Near  it  was  a  fountain, 
whose  water  was  received  into  a  stone  basin.  A  wa- 
terman sat  beside  it,  making  himself  a  paper  ciga- 
rillo ;  while  a  little  ass,  the  companion  of  his 
labours,  cropped  the  rich  grass  that  skirted  the  path, 
being  more  than  half  hid  under  the  earthen  jars 
which  were  placed  on  his  back  in  a  wooden  frame 
covered  with  newly-gathered  leaves. 

The  beauty  of  the  spot  delighted  me.  The  trees 
and  underwood  had  a  singular  freshness  and  thick- 
ness of  foliage,  which  they  doubtless  owed  to  the 


96  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

thousand  little  veins  of  water  that  trickle  through 
the  soil,  and  are  at  length  conveyed  away  in  the 
conduits  of  the  city,  or  mingled  with  the  stream 
of  the  Genii.  The  largest  of  these  fountains  pours 
its  waters  along  the  path  which  leads  to  the  Town 
of  the  Tribunal,  after  making  a  headlong  leap 
down  the  precipitous  bank  on  which  that  build- 
ing stands.  We  followed  the  upward  course  of 
this  bubbling  stream  till  we  came  to  the  imposing  en- 
trance of  the  Tower.  Two  or  three  soldiers  were 
sitting  there,  a  part  of  the  little  army  of  my  war- 
worn friend,  the  Invalid.  They  informed  us  we 
should  find  El  Sefior  Capitan  in  the  apartment 
above,  and  one  of  them  offered  himself  as  our  guide. 
As  we  passed  through  the  arched  vestibule,  he  di- 
rected our  attention  to  a  niche  in  the  wall,  contain- 
ing a  little  shrine,  with  a  taper  burning  at  the  foot  of 
it.  It  was  here  that  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  paused 
to  say  the  first  mass  when  they  made  their  glorious 
entrance  into  Granada  amid  the  sound  of  clarions, 
the  shouts  of  the  Christian  hosts,  and  all  the  pride 
and  pomp  of  Spanish  chivalry.  Here  they  returned 
thanks  to  the  God  of  the  Christians  for  having 
taken  that  beautiful  kingdom  from  the  unbeliever, 


THE    ALHAMBRA.  97 

and  delivered  it  into  the  hands  of  the  faithful ;  Fer- 
dinand, probably  with  the  quiet  formality  of  his  cold 
and  selfish  temperament ;  Isabella,  with  the  enthusi- 
asm that  formed  so  delightful  a  feature  of  her  cha- 
racter. 

Knocking  at  the  door  of  the  invalid's  apartment, 
we  were  received  by  the  old  captain  himself,  who 
saluted  us  with  much  cordiality,  and  with  the  cus- 
tomary share  of  Spanish  compliments.  His  dwell- 
ing, as  may  be  supposed,  was  quaint  and  old  fash- 
ioned enough,  the  walls  being  of  great  thickness, 
and  the  windows  like  the  embrasures  of  a  citadel. 
The  furniture  was  of  the  plainest  kind  ;  and  a  small 
shrine,  containing  a  crucifix  and  a  Madonna,  with  a 
thrifty  little  taper  flickering  before  it,  told  that  the 
old  soldier  was  not  only  loyal  to  the  state  but  true 
to  the  church.  With  an  enthusiasm  which  fami- 
liarity had  not  extinguished,  he  led  me  to  one  of  the 
windows  of  the  tower,  and  opening  the  lattice,  bade 
me  gaze  upon  the  glorious  scene  beneath.  From  ;jff 
this  commanding  eminence  we  looked  down  onr 
the  thickly  clustered  buildings  of  the  city,  the  rusty 
towers  of  churches  and  convents,  and  the  lovely 
Alameda,  through  the  thick  foliage  of  whose  trees 

9 


98  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

we  could  here  and  there  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
waters  of  the  Genii  sparkling  in  the  sunshine. 
Beyond  stretched  the  Yega,  or  Valley  of  Granada, 
covered  with  a  rich  and  variously  coloured  vegeta- 
tion, and  bounded  in  the  distance  by  an  amphitheatre 
of  hills  ;  while  the  towering  Sierra  Nevada  rose  with 
a  lordly  grandeur  above  all  the  other  mountains,  his 
summit  crowned  with  snow  as  with  a  diadem  of 
glittering  silver.  I  congratulated  the  invalid  captain 
in  having  found,  after  all  his  hardships  and  wander- 
ings, a  quiet  asylum  for  his  old  age  amid  scenery  so 
lovely.  "  Well,"  said  he,  "I  have  certainly  some 
cause  to  thank  God.  I  have  pay  enough  to  furnish 
my  puchero  and  cigarillo  without  foraging  all  day 
long  to  lie  down  at  night  supperless  on  the  cold 
ground,  as  I  used  to  do  in  the  wars.  As  for  the 
heat  of  summer,  it  seldom  troubles  me  amid  the  foun- 
tains and  foliage  of  the  Alhambra ;  a  few  cuartos 
worth  of  charcoal  keeps  my  brasero  agoing  in  win- 
ter ;  and  then,  Seiior,  I  can  look  out  all  the  year 
round  upon  that  lovely  Vega,  the  like  of  which  I 
never  saw  in  all  my  wanderings.  No  wonder  those 
unbelieving  Moors  were  so  sad  when  our  forefathers 
drove  them  across  the  water  into  Africa."  After 


THE    ALHAMBRA. 


99 


making  a  comfortable  breakfast  in  the  Tower  of  the 
Tribunal,  entertained  by  the  gossip  of  the  invalid 
captain  about  the  adventures  of  his  life,  as  he  fought 
over  for  my  accommodation  the  various  sackings, 
sieges,  skirmishes,  and  pitched  battles  in  which  he  had 
taken  part,  he  conducted  me  to  the  palace  of  the 
Alhambra  and  the  other  remains  of  the  Moriscos. 
We  wandered  through  the  deserted  halls,  which 
even  now,  in  their  decayed  and  neglected  condition, 
possess  so  rare  a  gracefulness  and  beauty,  and  looked 
forth  again  on  the  lovely  Vega  from  the  battlements 
of  this  palace  and  strong-hold  of  the  Moorish  kings. 
In  the  court  of  the  Lions  I  gathered  a  few  roses,  to 
carry  with  me  to  my  far-away  home  as  a  memento 
of  the  most  romantic  ruin  in  Europe.  They  would 
soon  be  withered  and  faded,  but  as  such,  would  be  a 
better  emblem  of  the  decaying  Alhambra  and  the 
blighted  glory  of  the  Moors.* 

After  spending  several  weeks  in  the  mouldering 
old  city  of  Granada,  I  at  length  prepared  to  bid  a 

*  I  have  not  attempted  to  describe  the  Alhambra,  although  I 
passed  many  delightful  hours  there  during  a  residence  of  several 
weeks  at  Granada.  After  reading  the  beautiful  and  copious  descrip- 
tions of  Irving,  I  felt  that  the  task  would  have  been  as  unnecessary 
as  the  effort  would  have  been  hopeless, 


100  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

reluctant  farewell  to  that  attractive  residence,  con- 
soled, however,  in  some  measure,  by  the  anticipated 
marvels  of  Seville  ;  for,  as  the  proverb  tells  us,  "  He 
that  hath  not  seen  Seville,  hath  not  seen  a  wonder." 
The  jealous  Granadina,  however,  trumps  this  boast 
of  the  Sevillian,  exclaiming,  with  Andalusian 
warmth, 

"  duien  no  ha  visto  Granada, 
No  ha  visto  nada." 

"  He  that  has  not  seen  Granada,  has  seen  nothing." 
When  I  came  to  take  leave  of  the  loquacious 
Dona  Jacinta,  she  poured  upon  me  a  shower  of  bless- 
ings and  commendations  to  the  Holy  Virgin ;  my 
fellow-lodgers  also,  with  hearty  Spanish  sincerity,  gave 
me  an  embrace  after  the  primitive  fashion  of  their 
country  ;  and  the  gay  Murcian  joined  to  his  parting 
adieus  the  wish  that  God  might  send  me  much  good 
fortune,  and  above  all,  good  store  of  pesetas.  "  Amigo 
que  Dios  te  de  buena  fortuna  y  sobre  todo,  muchas 
pesetas  !"  The  black-eyed  serving-maid,  too,  added 
her  pious  wishes  that  I  might  arrive  at  Seville  with- 
out novelty,  sin  novidad  ;  and,  in  truth,  if  prayers 
to  God  arid  the  Virgin  could  avail  to  defend  me 


DON    MANUEL.  10.1 


against  robbers  and  bad  luck,  I  was  armed  at  the 
outset  with  enough  of  them  to  beat  off  a  regiment  of 
salteadores. 

Donning  my  cloak  and  Andalusian  sombrero, 
I  now  took  my  way  by  the  old  convent  of  the 
Franciscans  to  the  house  of  the  cosario,  who  plies 
each  fortnight  between  Granada  and  Seville.  His 
name  was  Don  Manual  Huete  ;  a  thin,  spare  man, 
with  a  shrewd,  sharp  visage,  whose  cunning  expres- 
sion was  heightened  by  a  cast  in  his  left  eye.  This 
obliquity  of  vision  was  in  no  small  degree  emblem- 
atic of  his  character,  for  he  was  prone  to  jokes  and 
equivoque ;  and  while  his  words  looked  one  way,  his 
meaning  often  squinted  another.  Though  he  had 
Ungracious  features,  and  an  awkward,  mis-shapen 
person,  Don  Manuel,  as  I  afterwards  found,  was  a 
great  favourite  with  the  gentler  sex.  and  a  cavalier 
of  no  little  gallantry.  His  wife  was  a  fair  specimen 
of  his  success  in  that  way,  in  spite  of  his  natural 
disadvantages,  being  as  handsome  a  woman  as  one 
could  see  on  the  paseo,  and  a  notable  housewife,  if 
one  might  judge  from  the  well-ordered  appearance 
of  her  dwelling.  Perhaps,  with  the  practical  shrewd- 
ness of  her  sex,  she  may  have  yielded  her  charms 
9* 


102 


SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 


in  some  degree  to  the  property  as  well  as  the  person 
of  Don  Manuel ;  for,  in  truth,  he  was  a  man  well  to 
pass  in  the  world,  owning  several  galeras,  and  a  sta- 
ble full  of  long-eared  mules  ;  while  the  silver  spoons 
and  substantial  ewer  that  shone  on  his  wife's  cup- 
board, showed  that  the  good  man  was  above  the  con- 
dition of  a  common  cosario. 

When  I  arrived  at  the  dwelling  of  Don  Manuel, 
I  found  three  large  galeras  or  wagons  drawn  out 
before  the  door,  to  which  the  mayorals  and  men  were 
attaching  the  mules,  seven  to  each  vehicle.  These 
mules  were  sturdy,  well-fed  beasts,  nearly  as  tall  as 
an  ordinary  horse,  and  much  hardier  for  the  road. 
Their  necks  were  hung  with  strings  of  little  bells, 
and  their  heads  adorned  with  quaint  ornaments  of 
red  fringe ;  for  the  Spaniard  takes  as  much  pride  in 
furnishing  his  mules  gaily  as  in  bedecking  his  own 
person  with  gilt  buttons  and  embroidery.  When 
every  thing  was  in  readiness,  the  master  and  his  men 
set  up  a  loud  whooping  and  whistling,  and  many 
strange  gutteral  shouts  of  reproof  and  command  ;  for 
the  muleteers  have  a  language  which  is  Hebrew  to 
every  one  but  themselves  and  their  beasts.  Then 
off  started  the  clumsy  galeras,  while  the  whole 


THE    GALERA.  103 

neighbourhood,  men,  women,  and  children,  came 
swarming  to  the  doors  and  balconies  to  see  the  train 
pass.  Their  hearty  calls  of  "  God  guard  you,"  and 
"  a  good  voyage,"  were  heard  amid  the  rattling  and 
creaking  of  the  wheels,  the  shouts  of  the  drivers, 
and  the  ill-natured  barking  of  a  fierce  black  dog 
who  was  chained  at  the  end  of  one  of  the  wagons, 
and'  snarled  as  snappishly  as  Diogenes,  his  brother 
cynic,  at  every  one  that  ventured  near  him.  Yet 
with  all  this  martial  and  swaggering  outside,  he  was 
a  cowardly  cur  at  bottom,  and  was  fairly  driven  by  a 
dog  of  half  his  size  beneath  the  galera,  with  tail 
clapped  ingloriously  between  his  legs,  and  his  bully- 
ing bark  exchanged  for  a  cowardly  yelping. 

Following  on  foot  with  Don  Manuel,  we  presently 
crossed  the  little  bridge  of  the  Daro,  and  passed  the 
beautiful  Alameda,  that  prettiest  of  all  paseos.  The 
bare-headed  presidarios,  with  chains  on  their  legs, 
were  sprinkling  the  walks  for  the  evening  prome- 
nade, while  they  were  guarded,  as  usual,  by  two  or 
three  lazy  soldiers.  I  paused  a  moment  with  a  feel- 
ing of  regret  to  take  a  last  parting  view  of  its  rich 
foliage,  its  lively  fountains,  and  its  long  shady  walks, 
now  solitary,  but  which  I  had  so  often  seen  animated 


104  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

with  gay  crowds  of  those  black-eyed  fairies  of  the 
fan  and  the  mantilla.  Then  hurrying  across  a  square 
filled  with  asses  and  peasants,  and  over  the  bridge 
of  the  storied  Genii,  we  came,  at  the  outskirts  of  the 
city,  to  a  half  ruined  fountain,  whose  inscription  was 
well  nigh  defaced  by  time,  and  which  I  vainly  at- 
tempted to  decipher.  This  had  been  appointed  as 
the  rendezvous  for  the  passengers  of  the  galeras. 

The  galera  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  large 
clumsy  wagon,  without  springs,  and  in  all  respects 
of  the  most  homely  construction.  It  has  a  round 
top,  framed  with  reeds  and  covered  with  mats  of 
esparto.  The  load  is  usually  packed  in  bales,  and 
laid  along  the  matted  bottom  of  the  wagon ;  and 
upon  these  the  traveller  sits,  or  lies  down,  as  may 
best  suit  his  convenience.  A  long-bodied  person 
would  naturally  prefer  a  recumbent  position;  for, 
as  the  bulk  of  the  vehicle  is  filled  high  with  the 
load,  his  head  would  otherwise  be  brought  into  un- 
ceremonious contact  with  the  top  of  the  galera. 
The  reader  who  has  been  accustomed  to  the  com- 
modious cabin  of  the  steamboat,  or,  haply,  has  been 
whirled  in  his  own  snug  travelling  coach  on  the  mac- 
adamised roads  of  France  or  Italy  as  fast  as  post- 


THE    GALERA.  105 

horses  and  well-feed  postillions  could  carry  him, 
may  be  surprised  that  any  caballero,  or  gentleman, 
who  cares  a  pin  for  his  dignity  or  comfort,  should 
consent  to  be  dragged  along  night  after  night  in  a 
wagon,  at  snail-paced  stages  of  twenty-five  or  thirty 
miles  a  day;  nay,  he  would  be  utterly  astounded 
that  ladies  should  adopt  so  strange  a  conveyance. 
But  the  truth  is,  it  is  the  best  to  be  had,  for  at 
Granada  diligences  and  post-coaches  are  things 
unknown ;  and  as  for  going  on  horseback  with  a 
guide,  the  chances  of  robbery  are  in  that  way  very 
great.  For  myself,  having  no  rials  to  spare,  and, 
above  all,  no  relish  for  a  beating,  I  chose  the  galera 
without  hesitation. 

Having  ascertained  from  Don  Manuel  in  which 
of  the  wagons  I  was  to  go,  I  mounted  by  the  dri- 
ver's seat  and  crept  in  on  all  fours.  I  was  very 
glad  to  find  three  or  four  beds  ranged  side  by  side 
across  the  galera,  each  spread  with  a  clean  sheet 
and  pillow.  Choosing  one  that  suited  me  best,  I 
stretched  myself  out  upon  it,  and  was  congratula- 
ting myself  upon  the  unexpected  comfort  of  my 
situation,  when  I  was  suddenly  dispossessed  by  the 
unexpected  arrival  of  my  more  provident  fellow- 


106  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

passengers  to  whom  the  beds  belonged.  Having 
explained  my  mistake  to  me  with  much  grace  and 
politeness,  and  many  a  "perdone  listed,  Caballero," 
I  was  fain  to  make  a  precipitate  and  chop-fallen  re- 
treat to  the  extreme  end  of  the  galera,  where  I  laid 
down  on  the  hard  bales,  making  my  clothes'  bag 
and  cloak  a  sorry  substitute  for  bed  and  pillow. 

The  next  passenger  who  crawled  in  was  one 
Don  Francisco  Mostrador,  a  worthy  shop-keeper  of 
Osuna,  who  had  been  to  Granada  with  his  son,  a 
well-mannered  lad  of  seventeen,  to  see  the  celebra- 
tion of  the  feast  of  Corpus  Christi.  Released  for  a 
little  while  from  the  drudgery  of  the  shop,  he  was 
in  as  famous  spirits  as  John  Gilpin  when  setting 
out  for  Islington  ;  and  had  a  world  to  say  about  the 
procession  ot  the  Corpus,  and  the  Paseo,  and  the 
gaieties  of  Granada,  which,  compared  with  his  own 
sleepy  town,  seemed  to  the  simple-minded  shopman 
another  Paris.  Don  Francisco  was  a  little  man, 
with  a  smooth  ruddy  face,  a  mild  blue  eye,  and  an 
open,  good-natured  countenance ;  his  figure  was 
rather  spare,  and  with  little  of  that  tendency  to 
good  condition  which  his  countrymen  usually  mani- 
fest when  not  kept  down  like  the  arrieros  and 


FELLOW-TRAVELLERS.  107 

peasantry  by  active  exercise  and  short  commons. 
Though  from  having  spent  his  days  in  a  provincial 
town  at  the  shop-board,  he  had  seen  but  little  of  the 
great  world,  and  was  unsophisticated  in  morals  and 
manners,  he  was  nevertheless  a  man  of  much 
home-spun  discretion,  and  had  a  shrewd  eye  to  the 
main  chance.  When  those  troublesome  fellows,  the 
French,  came,  some  years  ago,  to  the  Peninsula,  on 
the  fool's  errand  of  conquering  the  most  stubborn 
and  indomitable  race  in  Europe,  Don  Francisco, 
a  youth  of  twenty  years,  found  that  the  puzzling 
alternative  was  offered  to  him  of  getting  married  or 
going  to  the  wars  ;  for  all  the  single  men  were 
obliged  to  enlist.  Not  being  of  a  pugnacious  turn, 
he  felt  loth  to  trudge  away  with  knapsack  and  fire- 
lock from  his  native  Osuna,  with  the  chance  of  hard 
blows  and  harder  fare,  but  poorly  compensated  by 
the  ill-paid  pittance  of  a  few  rials  monthly,  and 
that  penny-worth  of  fame  which  falls  to  the  lot  of  a 
private  soldier.  On  the  other  hand,  being  a  man  of 
prudence,  he  was  somewhat  afraid  to  trust  himself, 
at  so  early  an  age,  among  the  unexplored  rocks, 
shoals,  and  quick-sands  of  matrimony.  While 
Don  Francisco  was  thus  halting  between  two 


108  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

opinions,  his  mother  settled  the  matter  for  him; 
and  set  herself  about  the  task  of  looking  out  a  wife 
for  her  son  among  the  maidens  of  Osuna.  This  was 
a  matter  of  no  great  difficulty.  Don  Francisco,  like 
a  dutiful  child,  submitted  to  the  superior  discretion 
of  his  mother  in  the  choice  both  of  a  profession  and 
helpmate ;  and  went  a  wooing  instead  of  going  to 
the  wars.  Since  then  he  had  lived  a  quiet,  indus- 
trious life,  adding  to  his  family  and  fortune  with  laud- 
able perseverance.  His  wife,  by  his  own  account, 
did  great  credit  to  his  mother's  sagacity,  being  a 
notable  housewife,  loving  her  lord  faithfully,  and 
eschewing  those  gaieties  and  gallantries  to  which 
many  of  her  sex  are  prone  in  the  warm  land  of 
Andalusia.  In  short,  Don  Francisco  seemed  as 
happy  with  his  partner  as  was  the  world-weary 
Gil  Bias  in  the  embrace  of  his. 

Next  came,  hopping  in  on  all  fours  like  a  frog 
when  leaping,  a  slender  lad,  the  shopkeeper's  son, 
who  was  followed  more  gravely  by  an  advocate 
from  Malaga,  the  brother-in-law  of  the  archbishop 
of  Granada,  who  had  been  installed  a  few  days  before 
in  the  noble  cathedral  of  that  city,  with  all  the  pomp 
and  circumstance  of  Romish  ceremonial.  He  was 


FELLOW-TRAVELLERS.  109 

a  shrewd,  intelligent  man  ;  who,  though  of  a  pro- 
fession too  apt  to  engross  the  mind,  had  ideas  be- 
yond the  pandects  of  Justinian  and  the  edicts  of 
Alonzo  the  Wise ;  and  was,  moreover,  too  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  condition  and  government  of 
other  and  happier  countries  to  look  with  a  very  sa- 
tisfied eye  on  the  pitiful  fortunes  of  his  own. 

Presently  crawled  in,  with  much  ado,  and  with 
sighs  of  "Jesus,  Maria,  que  calor,"  an  old  woman, 
who  weighed  many  a  good  stone,  and  in  whom  the 
physical  seemed  greatly  to  preponderate  over  the 
moral;  for  she  had  a  scanty  stock  of  wit  and 
valour.  She  was  as  ignorant  and  garrulous  as  a 
child;  and  a  jolt  over  a  pebble  would  set  her  to 
crossing  herself  and  imploring  the  Virgin.  This 
well-fed  dame  was  a  sort  of  duenna  and  waiting- 
maid  to  the  young  Sevillana  who  followed  her  ;  a 
lady  of  a  very  wealthy  family  from  the  far-famed 
city  of  the  Giralda,  who  had  come,  under  the  pro- 
tection of  Don  Manuel,  to  see  the  Corpus  Christi  at 
Granada,  and  was  now  returning  to  her  friends. 
Though  she  was  passably  young,  and  had  good 
eyes,  which  Spanish  women  never  want,  she  was 
rather  notable  for  good-nature  than  beauty;  and 
10 


110  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

was  quite  eclipsed  by  the  last  of  our  passengers, 
Dona  Gracia.     This  was  as  fine  a  specimen  of  the 
Andalusian   woman  as  one  could  see  at  mass  or 
paseo.       She   might  have   seen  some   twenty-two 
summers.      Her   sparkling  eyes,   rich  olive   com- 
plexion, beautifully  rounded  form,  and  well  turned 
little  foot,  were  not  to  be  coldly  gazed   at.     She 
was  going  to  Portugal  to  join  her  husband,  who, 
with   a  spice   of  the   sooty   Moor's  besetting  sin, 
would    doubtless   have   found    causes   enough  for 
jealousy  in  the   admiration  that  was  lavished  on 
his  wife,  and  in  her  own  Andalusian  taste  for  flir- 
tation. 

Such  were  my  future  travelling  companions ; 
the  two  other  galeras  were  equally  well  filled.  At 
the  front  of  each  wagon  sat  the  mayoral  or  driver, 
and  a  zagal  or  boy,  who  from  time  to  time  got  down 
to  guide  the  leading  mules  of  the  train  in  difficult 
places  of  the  road,  or  to  administer  a  wholesome 
discipline  to  the  refractory,  which  he  laid  on  their 
ribs  in  good  earnest  with  a  stout  staff.  A  carabine 
slung  near  the  driver's  seat  intimated  the  possibility 
of  having  to  deal  with  more  troublesome  subjects. 

While  Don  Manuel,  our  cosario,  was  receiving 


THE    HIGH-ROAD. 


Ill 


his  passengers,  and  making  the  necessary  prepara- 
tions to  start,  we  were  passed  by  many  other  tra- 
vellers, who,  like  ourselves,  were  commencing  their 
journey  after  the  heat  of  the  day  had  expired. 
Among  them  one  might  see  lively  black-eyed  dames, 
mounted  on  mules,  and  propped  with  pillows  and  a 
sort  of  chair  fastened  to  the  back  of  the  patient 
beast ;  while  their  husbands  escorted  them  on  horse- 
back, with  an  escopeta  hanging  at  one  side  of  the 
saddle  and  a  sabre  at  the  other.  I  remember  one 
sun-burnt,  gray-headed  little  man,  in  a  ragged, 
brown  cloak,  with  a  paper  cigar  in  his  mouth,  who 
was  sitting  on  the  very  end  of  a  diminutive  donkey, 
with  his  wife  in  front  of  him,  whom  he  held  with 
one  arm  round  her  waist,  while  the  other  arm 
grasped  a  long  staff,  with  which  he  guided  the 
animal.  In  truth,  this  loving  pair  looked  much 
better  able  to  carry  the  ass  than  the  poor  little  ass 
to  carry  them;  but  being  no  reformer  of  abuses, 
like  the  knight  of  La  Mancha,  I  did  not  venture  to 
remonstrate. 

The  road  was  thronged  with  crowds  of  people 
returning  to  the  city  after  their  daily  labour.  Car- 
boneros,  with  sooty  hands  and  faces,  driving  doleful 


112  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

asses  loaded  with  charcoal ;  reapers  from  the  Vega 
with  sickles  in  their  hands,  and  following  long 
trains  of  mules  so  completely  hid  under  huge  bur- 
dens of  wheat-sheafs,  that  they  seemed  like  so  many 
walking  stacks;  gendarmes  too,  stout  athletic  fel- 
lows, whose  dress  is  one  of  the  most  showy  one 
sees  even  in  Andalusia.  It  consists  of  a  blue  jacket 
faced  with  red,  and  covered  with  a  profusion  of 
dangling  buttons  of  silver  basket-work,  breeches 
adorned  in  the  same  way,  gaiters  of  yellow  leather, 
with  long  loops,  the  Andalusian  sombrero,  a  cloak 
worn  with  a  cavalier  air  over  the  left  shoulder,  and  a 
red  sash  round  the  waist,  which  half  conceals  a  long 
mischievous-looking  dagger  and  a  brace  of  pistols. 

As  we  receded  from  the  city  and  entered  the 
lovely  and  fruitful  Vega  which  surrounds  it,  I  drew 
up  the  straw  curtain  at  the  back  of  the  galera  to 
gaze  regrettingly  for  the  last  time  on  the  distant 
spires  of  Granada,  on  its  towering  cathedral  that 
rose  like  a  giant  above  the  humbler  convents  and 
dwellings,  on  the  hill  of  the  Generalife,  the  silvery 
summit  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  and  that  Alhambra  so 
famed  in  history  and  song.  The  whole  scene  was 
enriched  by  the  mellow  light  of  the  setting  sun, 


PARTING    VIEW    OF    GRANADA.  113 

which,  shorn  of  its  noontide  splendour,  was  hasten- 
ing to  hide  itself  behind  the  mountains  of  Loxa.  I 
could  still  distinguish  the  bold  tower  of  the  Tribu- 
nal, where,  in  the  days  of  the  forgotten  Moriscos,  the 
monarch  of  Granada  sat  to  dispense  justice  to  his 
subjects.  A  little  beyond,  on  the  green  hill-side, 
were  indistinctly  seen  the  ruins  of  the  gate  through 
which  the  hapless  and  sorrowing  Boabdil  went  out 
for  the  last  time  from  the  palace  of  his  forefathers 
when  driven  away  by  the  Christian  conquerors.  If 
a  wanderer  from  a  far  off  and  unknown  land,  with- 
out ties  of  patriotism,  property,  or  kindred,  to  bind 
him  to  the  soil,  could  feel  regret  on  turning  his  back 
on  Granada  after  a  few  days'  sojourn  within  its 
walls,  what  must  have  been  the  feelings  of  the  suf- 
fering Moors  when,  insulted,  persecuted,  and  plun- 
dered, they  were  driven  forth  from  their  altars  and 
hearth-stones,  a  race  of  houseless  outcasts,  to  seek 
for  a  refuge  beyond  the  water  on  the  inhospitable 
shores  of  Africa  ?  Nay,  what  must  have  been  the 
poignancy  of  Boabdil's  sorrow  when  from  the  moun- 
tain of  El  Suspiro  the  dethroned  fugitive  stopped 
to  look  a  last  farewell  to  the  land  of  his  birthright, 
that  rich  and  beautiful  kingdom  which  he  had  lost 
10* 


114  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

as  much  by  his  own  irresolute  and  cowardly  councils 
as  by  the  treachery  of  his  subjects  and  the  unnatural 
wrongs  of  his  own  kindred  ? 

Had  I  been  travelling  in  any  other  way,  my  feel- 
ings would  probably  have  taken  a  sentimental  and 
saddened  tone  from  the  lovely  scenery  around,  and 
its  thousand  associations  of  romance  and  chivalry 
and  fallen  power  ;  but  there  was  something  so 
odd  and  farcical  in  our  situation  in  the  galera  that 
sentiment  and  sadness  were  quite  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. 

At  half  a  league  from  Granada  we  entered  the  lit- 
tle village  of  Armilla,  whose  quaint  houses  and  ruin- 
ous walls  bespoke  a  very  ancient  date.  Not  so  the 
sparkling  eyes  of  the  young  girls  who  were  walking 
on  the  little  Aiameda,  nor  the  merry  faces  of  the  chil- 
dren who  were  dancing  in  light-hearted  groups  here 
and  there  to  a  ding-dong  song  and  the  lively  rattle 
of  the  castanet.  As  for  the  older  people,  they  were 
sitting  more  quietly  at  the  doors  of  their  houses, 
some  smoking  cigars,  and  others  playing  at  cards,  to 
which  the  Spaniards  are  much  addicted.  Every 
Spanish  pueblo  has  its  swarm  of  beggars,  without 
which  it  would  look  ho  more  like  a  Spanish  pueblo 


NIGHT    IN    THE    GALERA.  115 

than  Rome  like  Rome  without  its  ruins.  Armilla 
was  no  exception  to  the  general  rule.  Half-starved 
children,  black  with  the  sun,  and  with  a  scanty 
covering  of  tatters  to  apologize  for  rather  than  hide 
their  nakedness,  came  running  out  from  the  mud 
hovels  of  Armilla,  begging  alms  in  the  name  of 
Mary  the  most  pure,  and  all  the  saints  in  the  ca- 
lendar. 

By  and  by  the  night  came  on,  and  the  fu  11  orbed 
moon  rising  over  the  dusky  mountain  which  bound- 
ed the  Vega  towards  the  East,  shed  a  sober  light  on 
the  rude  road  we  were  travelling,  and  the  large 
stubble  fields  on  either  side,  from  which  the  rich 
harvest  had  been  recently  gathered.  Our  passen- 
gers having  exhausted  their  stock  of  small  talk, 
began  very  systematically  to  make  their  arrange- 
ments for  sleep.  Don  Francisco  drew  over  his 
head  a  long  woollen  night-cap,  and  the  worthy  bro- 
ther-in-law of  the  archbishop  bound  his  head  with 
a  bandana,  while  the  handsome  Granadina  took  off 
her  large  comb  and  mantilla.  Our  Sevillana  wore 
a  very  fine  bonnet,  with  a  little  garden  of  artificial 
flowers  ;  but  as  this  unwieldy  piece  of  finery  kept 
knocking  against  the  top  of  the  galera,  she  at  last,  with 


116  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

a  reluctant  air,  took  it  off,  and  passing  it  to  me,  I  hung 
it  by  the  strings  at  the  back  of  the  wagon,  where  it 
dangled  unmolested  to  the  very  end  of  our  journey. 
Then  we  all  stretched  ourselves  out  as  well  as  we 
could,  accommodating  each  other  as  far  as  possible 
in  the  disposition  of  our  legs,  for  there  was  no  room 
to  spare.  Being  rather  tired,  I  wrapped  myself  in 
my  cloak,  and  presently  fell  asleep  in  spite  of  the 
jolting  of  the  wagon,  resting  perhaps  the  more 
soundly  that  I  was  at  one  end  of  the  galera,  and  the 
witching  Granadina  quite  away  at  the  other. 


CHAP.  VIII. 

AT  day-break  I  was  awakened  by  a  jog  on  the 
elbow,  and  a  "  buenos  dias"  from  my  worthy  friend 
of  Osuria,  and  sitting  up,  I  found  the  rest  of  our  com- 
pany all  awake,  but  with  very  long  faces,  like  your 
fashionable  fair  one  who  returns  home  from  a  ball 
at  three  in  the  morning.  The  merchant  was  pull- 
ing off  his  night-cap  and  stowing  it  away  in  a  pair 


MORNING    IN    THE    GALERA.  117 

of  alforjas ;  the  brother-in-law  of  the  archbishop 
was  eating  a  crust  of  dry  bread';  the  old  wo- 
man, who  had  been  sea-sick,  looked  very  pale  and 
wo-be-gone  ;  the  Granadina  was  rubbing  her  eyes, 
and  the  Sevillian  was  yawning.  It  was  now  the 
dawn  of  day,  streaks  of  a  pale  pink  light  were  shoot- 
ing up  above  the  summit  of  the  mountains  of  Gra- 
nada, among  which  rose  conspicuous  the  snowy  top 
of  the  Sierra  Nevada ;  and  the  birds  had  begun  their 
matin  songs.  The  country  around  us  was  beauti- 
ful, forming  a  succession  of  easy  undulating  swells, 
which  were  bounded  in  the  distance  by  the  bolder 
irregularities  of  the  mountain  barrier  which  hems 
in  this  part  of  Andalusia.  It  was  about  six  o'clock 
when  we  arrived  at  the  posada  where  we  were  to 
rest  and  spend  the  heat  of  the  day.  We  crawled 
out  one  by  one  from  the  galera,  and  entered  the  inn. 
Here  we  found  a  large  open  room  which  occupied 
the  whole  width  of  the  house.  The  floor  was  paved 
with  small  stones  ;  at  one  end  was  the  chimney,  a 
huge  inverted  funnel,  under  which  cooking  was 
performed  in  little  open  clay  furnaces  heated 
with  charcoal,  much  like  those  which  are  used  by 
thrifty  housewives  in  some  parts  of  the  United 


118 


SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 


States ;  at  the  other  end  of  the  room  were  large 
bins  filled  with  barley  and  other  provender  for  the 
cattle,  and  at  one  side  the  entrance  to  a  long  stable, 
into  which  Don  Manuel's  tired  mules  were  presently 
driven,  passing  through  the  large  stone  portal  and 
the  very  uncouth  reception-room  which  I  have  de- 
scribed. As  I  was  anxious  to  find  some  place  where 
I  could  lie  down,  I  asked  the  wife  of  the  "  ventero," 
a  gray-headed  old  woman  with  a  sharp  unprepos- 
sessing countenance,  if  she  could  give  me  a  bed-room, 
but  she  was  too  busy  with  the  pots  and  pans,  in 
which  she  was  preparing  our  greasy  breakfast,  to 
give  me  any  reply.  As  there  was  no  resource  but  to 
shift  for  myself,  I  ascended  a  staircase  of  heavy  ma- 
son-work, and  entered  a  wide  garret  or  loft,  where 
the  daughter  of  the  taciturn  hostess  was  stirring 
up,  with  a  broom  made  of  the  leaf  of  the  palm- 
tree,  an  atmosphere  of  dust  and  fleas,  under  pre- 
tence of  preparing  the  apartment  for  our  reception. 
There  were  two  little  rooms  partitioned  off  from  the 
garret,  but  these  were  already  in  possession  of  our 
fair  companions,  whose  beds  the  mayoral  was  just 
bringing  in  from  the  galera  to  spread  them  on  the 
stone  floor.  Under  these  circumstances  I  made  a 


THE    VENTA.  119 

precipitate  retreat  from  the  loft,  and  determined  to 
make  the  best  of  it  in  the  room  below.  After  a 
while,  the  ventera,  with  the  assistance  of  her  daugh- 
ters, spread  a  little  low  table  with  a  dirty  cloth,  and 
with  some  rude  crockery,  putting  a  knife  and  a  horn 
spoon  here  and  there  ;  for  it  is  generally  expected  that 
travellers  carry  their  own  knives.  Then  two  or 
three  large  earthen  dishes,  filled  with  various  stews, 
in  all  of  which  oil  was  the  grand  ingredient,  were 
set  upon  the  table  ;  and  we  mustered  round  the 
homely  fare  which  my  companions,  better  accustom- 
ed to  it,  eat  with  much  gusto,  not  forgetting,  how- 
ever, first  to  proffer  the  usual  invitation  to  the  rest  of 
the  company.  Meanwhile  the  dogs  and  chickens  of 
the  venta  gathered  round  unasked,  to  solicit  a  share 
in  our  repast ;  and  the  fleas,  less  modest,  levied  their 
contributions  upon  us  without  asking  permission. 
The  hostess  and  her  daughters  stood  by  to  serve  us 
with  water  out  of  a  large  earthen  pitcher,  and  to 
attend  to  our  other  calls ;  and  while  their  backs  were 
turned,  a  wary  cat  took  advantage  of  the  opportu- 
nity to  approach  the  frying-pan  and  lick  up  the 
gleanings  of  an  omelet.  To  complete  the  comic 
oddity  of  the  scene,  a  sleep-walking  mule,  who  had 


120  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

escaped  from  the  adjoining  stable,  came  stumbling 
towards  us ;  and  whether  prompted  by  a  curious  and 
observant  spirit,  or  a  desire  for  a  crust  of  bread,  kept 
overlooking  our  operations,  hanging  his  big  solemn 
head  over  our  shoulders  in  a  way  that  was  truly 
ludicrous.  The  breakfast  finished,  the  men  took 
out  their  tobacco  pouches  and  made  their  paper 
cigars,  which  they  presently  lighted  with  the  assist- 
ance of  a  flint  and  steel  and  a  piece  of  spunk,  that 
universal  pocket  furniture  of  the  Spaniard. 

Having  satisfied  the  cravings  of  hunger,  it  was 
now  time  to  attend  to  the  calls  of  fatigue,  for  though 
I  had  slept  some  hours  in  the  wagon,  it  was  any 
thing  else  but  refreshing.  I  returned  again  to  the 
garret,  and  lay  down  on  a  bed  which  the  hostess 
spread  for  me  on  the  floor ;  but  the  heat,  which  beat 
through  the  roof,  and  the  active  exertions  of  the 
bugs  and  fleas,  were  so  complete  an  antidote  against 
slumber,  that  I  was  again  driven  below  from  my 
inhospitable  quarters.  The  guests  of  the  venta  were 
presently  increased  by  the  arrival  of  a  party  of 
reapers,  who  had  come  in  from  the  fields  to  get 
their  dinner.  Their  bare  arms  and  legs  were  black 
with  the  sun;  and  their  bristling  beards,  which 


A    FRUGAL    MEAL.  121 

seemed  to  have  forgotten  the  barber,  gave  a  wild 
and  half-savage  cast  to  their  countenances;  an 
effect  not  at  all  diminished  by  their  strange  dress, 
which  consisted  of  a  coarse  shirt,  loose  trowsers 
which  reached  only  to  the  knees,  pieces  of  black 
sheep-skin,  with  the  wool  worn  inwards,  and  tied 
round  the  thighs,  and  sandals  made  of  hemp,  rudely 
fashioned,  and  bound  with  strings  round  the  ancle, 
the  foot  being  only  covered  on  the  sole  and  at  the 
heel  and  toes.  Having  saluted  the  company  with  a 
formal  "  buenos  dias,  caballeros !"  for  the  humblest 
Spanish  peasant  has  his  share  of  politeness,  they 
sat  down  round  a  little  low  table,  on  coarse, 
wooden  stools.  The  ventera  then  placed  before 
them  a  large  dish  of  "  gaspacho,"  which  is  in  uni- 
versal use  in  Andalusia,  and  is  composed  of  water, 
vinegar,  salt,  and  oil.  Each  received  a  large  piece 
of  bread,  which  they  broke  into  the  dish ;  then 
they  alternately  dipped  into  the  gaspacho  their 
horn  spoons,  waiting  a  little  interval  between  each 
mouthful  with  great  gravity.  Such  was  the  frugal 
and  temperate  dinner  of  these  poor  fellows  after  a 
hard  morning's  work.  This  same  food,  and  nothing 
more,  they  eat  three  times  a  day. 
11 


i 


122  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

Meanwhile  the  brother  of  the  archbishop  was 
entertaining  his  less  learned  neighbour  of  Osuna 
with  an  eulogy  on  the  rising  greatness  of  the  United 
States,  of  whose  history  he  knew  much  more  than 
I  should  have  expected  from  an  untravelled  Span- 
iard. Though  he  spoke  with  caution,  it  was  very 
plain  he  was  a  thorough  Liberal  at  bottom;  and 
with  the  simple  expression  of  "pobrecita  Espa- 
na,"  and  a  significant  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  he 
told  plainly  enough  his  inward  sorrow  at  the  con- 
trasted degradation  of  his  own  country.  He  seem- 
ed to  have  been  strongly  impressed  in  our  favour  by 
a  visit  on  board  one  of  our  vessels  of  war  at  Mala- 
ga. Nor  was  this  the  only  instance  in  which  I 
have  had  occasion  to  remark  the  important  influ- 
ence of  our  noble  little  navy  in  exalting  our  na- 
tional character  wherever  it  unfolds  the  American 
flag.  The  American  is  in  little  danger  of  losing  his 
republican  notions  by  breathing  a  despotic  atmos- 
phere ;  on  the  contrary,  the  misery  and  misrule  con- 
stantly before  his  eyes,  make  him  thank  God  more 
and  more  every  day  that  he  was  born  a  freeman. 

About  five  in  the  afternoon  the  men  of  the  galera, 
who  had  stretched  themselves  out  to  sleep  on  some 


VEGA    OF    LOJA.  123 

sacks  of  barley  in  a  corner  of  the  venta,  were  roused 
from  their  siesta  by  the  attentive  Don  Manuel, 
upon  which  some  of  them  went  to  the  stables  to 
lead  out  the  mules,  while  others  brought  down  the 
beds  and  disposed  them  in  the  wagons.  Then 
crawling  in  as  before,  and  resuming  our  posts,  we 
got  again  in  motion ;  and  towards  sun-down  de- 
scended into  the  beautiful  vega  of  Loja,  so  rich  and 
of  such  varied  fertility  that  it  is  said  to  be  capable  of 
producing  within  itself  every  necessary  of  life.  As 
the  valley  is  hemmed  in  by  bold  hills,  which  send 
down  a  great  many  little  streams  from  the  springs 
they  contain,  the  fields  never  suffer  from  drought, 
receiving  the  refreshing  moisture  in  every  part  by 
trenches,  according  to  that  admirable  system  of  irri- 
gation practised  by  the  Moors.  The  fine  herds  of 
mares,  and  the  beautiful  cattle  grazing  in  the  mea- 
dows, were  a  sufficient  evidence  of  the  richness  of 
the  pasture.  As  we  approached  the  old  town  of 
Loja,  much  noted  in  the  wars  of  the  Moors  and 
Christians,  we  passed  many  groups  of  bare-legged 
women,  who,  with  their  garments  very  unceremo- 
niously tucked  up,  were  washing  clothes  in  a  small 
stream.  We  entered  the  city  under  a  ruinous  arch, 


124  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

and  after  winding  through  some  narrow,  shabby 
streets,  halted  at  the  door  of  the  posada  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.  This  is  a  very  odd  name  for  an  inn  ;  but 
temporal  and  spiritual  things  are  strangely  blend- 
ed in  this  most  Catholic  country,  and  not  always 
so  innocently  as  in  the  mere  name  of  a  tavern. 

A  galera  from  Malaga  had  arrived  just  before  us, 
and  the  passengers  were  sitting  round  the  door, 
among  whom  I  observed  a  round-faced,  portly  priest, 
with  his  black  capa  and  long  hat,  and  a  dirty  Capu- 
chin friar,  in  a  habit  of  coarse  gray  cloth  tied  round 
the  waist  with  a  long  knotted  cord.  The  inn  did 
not  differ  very  materially  from  the  one  last  described. 
The  women  of  the  house  were  bustling  about  in  a 
great  hurry  to  prepare  the  supper  of  the  new-comers  ; 
and  in  the  stable  yard  I  saw  two  suspicious  looking 
fellows  seated  beside  a  dunghill,  playing  cards  on  a 
cloak  spread  between  them. 

Here  they  gave  us  a  very  sorry  meal  of  gaspacho 
and  rice  fried  in  oil,  and  at  nine  o'clock  we  were  on 
the  road  again  by  the  light  of  a  fine  moon.  As  we 
passed  along  through  a  country  which  became  wild 
and  barren  as  we  advanced,  the  passengers  amused 
themselves  with  recounting  many  uncomfortable 


ROBBER    TALES.  125 

tales  of  the  robbers  of  Andalusia,  from  which,  how- 
ever, it  appeared  that  with  the  march  of  civilization 
they  were  improving  too  ;  for  now-a-days  they  sel- 
dom take  more  than  the  clothes  and  money  of  such 
ill-starred  travellers  as  fall  into  their  hands  ;  whereas, 
in  the  good  old  times,  they  used  to  dismiss  them  with 
a  beating,  and  often  left  them  dead  on  the  scene  of 
their  attack.  The  Granadina,  in  many  high-sound- 
ing superlatives,  and  with  a  profusion  of  lively  ges- 
ticulation, according  to  the  custom  of  the  Andalu- 
sians,  who,  the  Castillians  say,  "  lie  by  the  arm's 
length,"  related  a  long  story  about  the  robbery  of  a 
galera  not  long  since,  on  the  same  road  we  were 
travelling.  They  stripped  the  passengers  of  all 
their  baggage  and  pesetas,  not  sparing  an  humble 
friar  who  carried  a  well-stocked  purse  under  his 
coarse  flannel  tunic  ;  but  they  treated  them  with  all 
the  grave  politeness  due  to  well-born  cavaliers,  and 
did  not  break  a  single  bone  of  the  whole  party, 

At  a  mile  from  the  old  town  of  Archidona,  we 
found  in  the  morning  the  humble  venta  of  that  name, 
Here  were  gathered  round  the  door  some  thirty  or 
forty  wild  looking  fellows,  whom  the  fertile  imagina- 
tion of  Don  duixote  would  have  easily  converted 
11* 


126  SCENES    IN   SPAIN. 

into  an  army  of  infidel  Moors  come  back  again  to 
conquer  the  country ;  but  who  were  in  reality  nothing 
more  than  a  squad  of  honest  reapers,  the  direct 
descendants  indeed  of  that  unfortunate  race,  who 
had  descended  from  their  mountain  homes  in  the 
Alpuj arras  of  Granada  to  gather  in  the  crops.  These 
poor  labourers  were  ranged  in  the  shade  along  the 
long  wall  of  the  inn.  some  of  them  making  their 
breakfast  either  on  a  piece  of  bread  and  a  bit  of 
cheese,  or  the  more  luxurious  repast  of  a  greasy  stew 
composed  of  beans  and  oil,  which  they  ate  from  the 
frying-pan,  squatting  on  the  ground  around  it; 
others,  who  had  finished  their  meal,  were  smoking 
their  little  paper  cigars,  that  most  favourite  of  a 
Spaniard's  enjoyments ;  while  others  were  stretched 
out  asleep,  completely  hid  in  their  coarse  brown 
cloaks.  Near  them  stood  a  group  of  melancholy 
asses,  the  patient  companions  of  their  toil,  with 
their  fore-legs  tied  together  with  a  rope  of  es- 
parto ;  some  eating  their  miserable  pittance  of  cut 
straw,  and  others,  with  drooping  heads  and  a  cer- 
tain grave,  contemplative  air,  gazing  demurely  on 
the  ground  like  so  many  four-legged  philosophers 
engaged  in  profound  speculation.  These  labourers 


ALPUJARRIAN    REAPERS.  127 

from  the  Alpuj arras  are  a  frugal  and  industrious 
race,  and  are  said  to  preserve,  more  than  any  other 
people,  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  Moors  ;  a  cir- 
cumstance probably  attributable  to  their  living  apart 
in  the  mountains,  and  associating  little  with  the  peo- 
ple in  the  vallies.    As  they  have  the  seasons  much 
later  in  their   mountain  heights,  after  they  have 
sown   their   crops    they  leave  their  fields  in  the 
charge  of  their  wives  and  old  men,  and  coming 
down  into  the  Vega,  make  a  little  money  by  reaping. 
Descending  at  first  in  large  bands,  they  gradually 
divide  themselves  into  small  parties,  as  they  find 
employment.     As  the  time  for  their  own  harvest 
approaches,  they  return  home  with  their  earnings ; 
and  when  they  approach  their  villages,  they  have 
a  custom  of  throwing  up  rockets,  to  notify  their 
friends,  who  come  out  to  bid  them  welcome.     My 
companion,  the  merchant  of  Osuna,  was  once  living 
in  a  pueblo  of  the  Alpuj  arras  in  the  troublesome 
times  of  the  Constitution,  when  one  night  one  of 
these  honest  labourers  approached  the  village,  bear- 
ing with  him,   doubtless  with  a    light  heart,   the 
money  he  had  gained  in  an  absence  of  some  weeks. 
As  his  companions  had  already  returned,  his  ex- 


128  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

peeling  family  knew,  when  they  saw  his  rockets 
darting  up  in  the  obscurity  of  the  evening,  that  it 
could  be  no  other  than  their  own  good  Pedro  de 
Alcala  who  was  coming ;  and  they  sallied  out  with 
joy  to  meet  him.  But,  alas  !  what  was  the  miserable 
disappointment  of  his  unhappy  wife  and  children, 
and  the  old  man  his  father,  to  find,  just  at  the  out- 
skirts of  the  village,  the  mutilated  body  of  the  poor 
peasant  stretched  on  the  ground  !  He  had  just  life 
enough  left  to  recognize  them,  and  tell  them  he  had 
been  waylaid  and  robbed,  and  then  expired.  They 
bore  the  body  home,  and  buried  it,  with  the  cus- 
tomary funeral  rites,  in  the  little  Campo  Santo  of  the 
village,  erecting  a  wooden  cross  over  the  spot  where 
he  was  murdered,  which,  perhaps,  still  points  out  to 
the  passing  traveller,  with  an  inscription  painted  in 
rude  letters,  that  "  Here  they  killed  Pedro  de  Al- 
caU." 

But  to  return  to  the  venta.  At  noon  the  reapers, 
after  sleeping  for  some  hours  in  the  shade  of  the 
wall,  began  to  prepare  for  their  departure.  First 
they  covered  the  backs  of  the  borricos  with  a  motley 
collection  of  pads,  rags,  and  pieces  of  blanket,  over 
which  they  put  their  packs,  either  in  bundles  or  in 


VENTA    OF    ARCHIDONA.  129 

straw  panniers;  all  of  which  they  bound  tightly 
with  ropes  and  bands  of  esparto.  Then  they  hung- 
at  the  back  of  the  load  an  earthen  pitcher  of  water, 
and  untying  the  rope  with  which  the  legs  of  their 
beasts  were  hobbled,  they  mounted,  and  went  their 
way  in  the  direction  of  Granada. 

While  this  was  going  on  without  the  galera,  a  lad 
of  some  sixteen  years,  the  son  of  the  merchant  of 
Osuna,  was  saying  his  aves  and  pater  nosters  within 
the  wagon,  having  first  hung  round  his  neck  a  lit- 
tle piece  of  black  cloth  with  a  red  heart  worked 
upon  it,  and  another  with  a  little  figure  of  the  Virgin, 
surrounded  with  an  embroidered  wreath  of  flowers:, 
assisting  his  memory  from  time  to  time  with  a  parch- 
ment bound  breviary  with  stout  brass  clasps. 

One  woman,  unassisted,  had  to  attend  to  the  wants 
not  only  of  the  passengers,  but  the  reapers ;  and  in- 
deed she  was  so  bewildered  by  the  burden  of  house- 
hold affairs  that  she  was  quite  at  her  wit's  end, 
and  in  a  very  touchy  humour.  As  I  could  not  eat 
the  food  prepared  for  the  rest  with  the  rancid  Spanish 
oil,  I,  with  much  looking  after  her,  but  at  the  same 
time  with  the  circumspection  and  "  suaviter  in  mo- 
do"  which  the  state  of  her  temper  required,  sue- 


130  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

ceeded  in  getting  a  little  rice  cooked  with  toma- 
toes, a  loaf  of  bread,  and  a  small  piece  of  tough  beef 
about  as  big  as  my  thumb.  This  she  spread  for 
me  on  a  little  table  about  two  feet  high,  with  a  plate 
and  a  horn  spoon.  Being  somewhat  puzzled  to  eat 
the  meat  and  cut  the  loaf  of  bread  with  the  spoon,  I 
asked  fora  knife  and  fork  ;  fork  there  was  none  ;  but 
she  brought  me  a  jack-knife,  with  which  I  thought  I 
could  make  shift.  But  scarcely  was  I  in  possession 
of  it,  when  the  stable  boy,  to  whom  it  belonged,  came 
in  to  eat  his  dinner,  so  I  was  obliged  to  surrender  it 
and  use  my  penknife  instead.  My  luxurious  re- 
past was  participated  by  various  expecting  dogs  and 
cats,  whose  mute  eloquence  it  was  hard  to  with- 
stand, and  by  a  brood  of  young  chickens  with  the 
parent  hen,  of  whose  approach  I  was  first  notified 
by  her  lighting  on  my  head  as  she  flew  heavily  over 
the  table.  A  turkey,  too,  and  a  pig,  seeing  the  civil 
treatment  which  the  rest  received,  were  induced  to 
draw  near ;  but  being  attacked  by  the  dogs,  they 
made  a  precipitate  retreat,  and  stood  watching  the 
progress  of  the  repast  at  a  respectful  distance.  The 
fields  round  this  venta  used  in  former  times  to  be  a 
noted  stand  for  robbers ;  for  there  once  grew  here  a 


ANDALUSIAN   BULLS.  131 

great  quantity  of  cork  trees,  in  which  these  "jump- 
ers" or  "  salteadores"  hid  themselves  in  ambuscade, 
and  sallied  out  suddenly  upon  the  unexpecting  tra- 
veller. Behind  the  venta  was  a  high  range  of  steep 
and  naked  rocks,  in  whose  caves  and  fastnesses  they 
took  refuge  when  pursued. 

In  the  afternoon  a  cloud  of  dust  and  the  tinkling 
of  bells  announced  the  approach  of  a  herd  of  cattle, 
which  proved  to  be  a  drove  of  oxen  for  the  sham- 
bles and  bulls  for  the  arena  of  Granada.  Any  one 
who  has  witnessed  the  ferocity  of  the  bull  in  the 
amphitheatre,  would  naturally  wonder  how  they 
were  ever  brought  there.  Much  allowance  must 
be  made  for  the  fact  that  the  fury  of  the  animal 
is  greatly  increased  by  artificial  means  after  he  is 
snugly  penned  in  the  stalls  of  the  Plaza  :  but  stil) 
the  thing  is  attended  with  some  trouble  and  danger. 
The  bulls  having  been  left  till  the  proper  age  to 
roam  at  large  in  the  mountains,  the  herdsman, 
when  he  wants  them,  drives  a  number  of  cows  and 
oxen,  having  bells  round  their  necks,  to  the  fields 
where  they  are  grazing  ;  the  bulls  presently  mingle 
with  them,  and  then  the  whole  herd  is  driven  along 
quietly  enough,  the  herdsman  being  mounted  on 


132  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

horseback,  and  carrying  a  long  pike  like  those  used 
by  the  picadors,  with  which,  in  case  of  attack,  the 
charge  of  the  bull  may  be  warded  off.  They  are 
brought  into  the  city  and  driven  into  the  Plaza  at 
midnight ;  but  as  the  bringing  in  of  the  bulls,  tech- 
nically called  the  encierro,  is  always  a  great  sport  to 
the  boys  and  many  grown  children,  the  lateness  of 
the  hour  does  not  always  prevent  the  assembling  of 
a  crowd  of  people,  who  endeavour  to  excite  the  fury 
of  the  animals  and  draw  them  away  from  the  herd 
by  shouting  and  blowing  horns.  In  the  present  in- 
stance, the  bulls,  though  noble,  valiant-looking  ani- 
mals, went  very  quietly  forward,  and  gave  no  symp- 
toms of  that  impetuous  ferocity  which  they  were  to 
show  on  the  approaching  Sunday  in  the  bloody 
sports  of  the  arena. 


133 


CHAP.    IX. 

WHEN  the  sun  was  again  drawing  near  the  hori- 
zon, and  the  noon-tide  heat  had  passed,  the  usual 
preparations  for  starting  were  made;  each  resumed 
his  wonted  place,  which  had  grown  as  familiar  to  us 
as  his  station  *at  quarters  to  a  veteran  man-of-war's- 
man  ;  and  the  clumsy  galeras,  with  their  long  train 
of  mules,  got  again  under  weigh.  To  while  away 
the  time,  many  a  story  was  told  by  the  Lawyer  and 
the  Merchant,  and  even  by  the  lack- wit  Duenna ; 
and  many  a  merry  catch  trolled  forth  by  the  united 
voices  of  the  party  ;  now  a  verse  from  the  fandan- 
go, and  now  some  Andalusian  ballad,  the  song  of  the 
contrabandista  to  his  horse,  the  mule-driver  to  his 
beast,  or  the  lover  to  his  mistress.  The  light  of  the 
moon  still  enlivened  our  path,  and  cheered  the  soli- 
tude and  desertion  of  the  uncultivated  hills  and  dales 
through  which  we  slowly  pursued  our  journey.  At 
last  the  song  was  silent,  the  stories  of  the  advocate 
and  shopkeeper  were  exhausted,  and  all  were  wrap- 
12 


134  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

ped  in  sleep  ;  little  heeding  the  jolting  of  the  galera, 
the  jostling,  and  the  guttural  calls  of  encouragement 
or  command  which  the  mayoral  and  his  man  dealt  out 
continually  to  their  beasts,  nor  the  jingling  of  the 
bells  as  the  mules  moved  slowly  along. 

The  next  morning,  before  peep  of  day  we  found 
ourselves  in  the  posada  of  the  little  village  of  Ala- 
meda.  The  men  having  led  the  mules  away  to 
their  stalls,  and  given  them  their  allowance  of  bar- 
ley, gathered  round  the  huge  chimney  of  the  inn, 
and  with  Andalusian  light-heartedness  began  crack- 
ing their  quaint  jokes  and  singing  odds  and  ends  of 
ditties,  with  a  vivacity  one  would  not  have  expected 
after  the  fatigue  of  the  night's  journey,  which  many 
of  them  had  performed  almost  entirely  on  foot. 

At  noon,  when  we  had  discussed  a  greasy  meal  of 
meat,  garbanzos  and  tomatoes,  Don  Francisco  bor- 
rowed a  guitar  from  the  daughter  of  our  host,  and 
having  mounted  cross-legged  on  a  table,  the  self- 
constituted  master  of  ceremonies  summoned  the 
rest  of  the  passengers  and  the  men  of  the  galera, 
who  presently  fell  to  dancing  the  fandango,  the  hand- 
some Granadina  taking  a  conspicuous  part  in  this 
mpromptu  entertainment.  Meanwhile  the  advocate 


PUEBLO    OF    ALAMEDA.  135 

found  diversion  in  a  keen  encounter  of  wits  with 
a  loquacious  young  Portuguese  student  fresh  from 
the  study  of  philosophy  and  logic.  This  stripling 
was  as  prone  to  disputation  as  Gil  Bias  when  at  the 
university;  and  doubtless  thought  himself  as  acute  a 
logician  as  the  subtle  Doctor  Johannes  Dunscotus. 

Their  argument,  like  most  arguments,  ended  in 
leaving  either  party  more  obstinately  rooted  and 
grounded  in  his  own  opinion,  each  satisfied  that  he 
had  routed  his  adversary,  and  had  convinced  the  by- 
standers of  the  truth  of  his  own  principles  and  the 
superior  vigour  of  his  own  eloquence. 

Near  the  inn  was  a  stone  fountain,  whither,  from 
time  to  time,  the  villagers  came  to  water  their  mules 
and  asses.  The  houses  of  this  humble  pueblo  were 
of  two  stories  high  ;  the  windows  were  jealously 
caged  in  with  iron  bars  ;  a  wooden  cross  might  be 

seen  over  most  of  the  doors,  and  here  and  there  a 

» 

little  shrine  with  a  rude  image  or  painting  of  the 
Virgin. 

On  leaving  Alameda,  our  road  led  for  a  long  dis- 
tance through  groves  of  the  olive,  an  ugly  and  sad- 
looking  tree,  which  has  very  undeservedly  got  a 
conspicuous  place  in  the  good  graces  of  poets  and 


136  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

writers  of  romance.  It  was  a  great  disappointment 
when  I  first  saw  its  stunted  trunk,  its  crooked,  strag- 
gling^ branches,  and  its  dingy  foliage ;  a  deformed 
dwarf  when  put  in  comparison  with  the  growth  of 
northern  climes,  the  sturdy  oak,  the  graceful,  wide- 
spreading  elm,  the  airy  locust,  or  even  the  unpre- 
tending apple-tree,  which  it  would  be  a  poetical 
heresy  to  name  in  verse.  After  the  night  had  set  in, 
we  came  nigh  a  small  village,  noted  as  the  resi- 
dence of  robbers,  from  whose  mud  hovels  they  sally 
forth  in  bands  on  horseback  to  forage  far  and  near. 
We  had  been  singing  in  chorus  at  the  top  of  our 
lungs  the  favourite  song  of  the  contrabandista ; 
but  the  prudent  shopkeeper  of  Osuna  suggested  that 
it  would  be  best  to  keep  silent  as  we  passed  through 
the  pueblo.  Not,  however,  that  we  had  any  thing 
to  apprehend  from  these  bandits  ;  for  Don  Manuel, 
our  cosario,  pays  tribute  to  these  worthies,  as  the 
Baron  of  Bradwardine  did  Black  Mail  to  the  haughty 
Vich  Ian  Vor.  Thus  his  galeras,  with  their  tempt- 
ing trains  of  sleek  and  well-fed  mules,  and  even  the 
pockets  and  persons  of  his  passengers,  were  ever  al- 
lowed to  pass  without  molestation.  I  asked  Don 
Manuel  how  much  toll  he  paid  to  the  outlaws,  but 


CITY    OF    OSUNA.  137 

he  did  not  give  me  any  satisfaction,  shrugging  his 
shoulders  and  pretending  not  to  understand  my 
question. 

At  break  of  day  the  worthy  Don  Francisco  hailed 
the  approach  to  his  native  Osuna ;  descrying  at  a 
distance  the  dingy  towers  of  an  antiquated  church 
that  looks  down  from  a  hill  upon  the  city.  Anxious 
to  find  himself  again  in  the  embraces  of  his  wife 
and  at  the  till  of  his  shop-board,  he  descended  with 
his  son  at  the  gate  of  the  town,  and  taking  his  al- 
forjas  under  his  arm,  hastened  away,  first  commend- 
ing us  to  God,  with  many  good  wishes  for  our  safe 
arrival  at  Seville. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  posada,  I  asked  for  a 
room ;  but  as  the  only  apartments  in  the  inn  were 
destined  for  the  Sevillana  and  the  Granadina,  I  was 
fain  to  sleep  in  the  galera,  stretching  myself  out  on 
the  bales.  As  the  morning  advanced,  I  covered  my- 
self in  cloak  and  calanes,  and  sallied  out  to  explore 
the  streets  of  Osuna.  It  was  Sunday,  and  many 
peasants  had  come  together  from  the  neighbourhood 
to  say  mass  and  lounge  away  the  day.  Some  were 
sitting  in  groups  in  the  shade,  smoking ;  others  were 
going  the  rounds  of  the  shops,  bargaining  for  leath- 
12* 


138  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

ern  gaiters,  or  a  manta,  or  a  pack-saddle  for  a  mule, 
or  earthen  pucheros  to  cook  in.  I  was  amused  at 
some  of  the  signs  of  the  shopmen  and  artisans : 
thus,  a  blacksmith's  shop  was  marked  by  an  anvil 
set  out  before  his  door,  on  which  was  written,  in 
schoolboy  characters,  "jSoy  de  Francisco  de  Torres," 
"  I  belong  to  Francisco  de  Torres."  The  barber's 
shop  was  designated  by  signs  emblematic  of  the  va- 
rious branches  of  his  profession.  Thus,  the  copper 
basin  or  helmet  of  Mambrino  denoted  the  shaver 
of  beards ;  a  rude  painting  of  a  bandaged  arm  or 
leg,  with  a  red  stream  spirting  from  it,  the  man 
of  the  lancet  and  leeches  ;  while  a  long  string  of 
teeth,  the  obsolete  cutters  and  grinders  of  those 
whose  jaws  he  had  relieved,  proclaimed  the  dentist. 
The  length  of  the  string  doubtless  served  as  an  os- 
tentatious standard  of  the  barber's  experience  in  the 
tooth-drawing  art,  as  one  would  judge  of  the  extent 
of  a  physician's  practice  by  his  reports  to  the  clerk  of 
the  bills  of  mortality. 

The  men  of  the  galeras  were  many  of  them  from 
Osuna  ;  and  when  they  had  given  provender  to  the 
mules,  they  went  home  to  put  on  a  clean  shirt  and 
Sunday  suit,  in  order  to  appear  better  in  the  eyes  of 


SUNDAY    IN    OSTJNA.  139 

their  wives  or  sweethearts.  I  asked  one  of  them, 
an  ill-favoured  old  fellow,  with  a  crooked  face,  and 
like  Hannibal,  one-eyed,  who  stayed  behind  smok- 
ing cigarillos  and  dozing  in  the  galera,  why  he  did 
not  put  on  his  Majo  rig  like  the  rest.  But  it  seemed 
that  the  sovereign  passion,  which  made  Hercules 
change  his  club  and  his  lion's  skin  for  a  spindle  and 
a  petticoat,  and  even  found  its  way  to  the  heart  of 
the  Holy  St.  Francis,*  had  no  power  over  the  obdu- 
rate muleteer.  "  To  what  purpose,"  said  he,  "  since 
my  mother's  son  has  neither  matron  nor  mistress  ;" 
adding,  with  a  dubious  shake  of  the  head,  and  a 
cunning  wink  with  his  single  eye,  "El  melon y  el  ca- 
samiento,  ha  de  ser  acertamiento," — "  Choose  a  melon 
or  a  wife  :  'tis  all  chance  whether  you  pick  a  good 
one  or  a  bad." 

Some  of  our  men  I  met  in  the  little  old  Gothic 
church  of  Osuna,  whither  they  had  gone,  like 
good  Catholics,  to  mass  and  confessional.  There 
some  monks  in  white  flannel  robes,  begirt  with  the 
rope  girdle  with  which  they  discipline  the  unruly 
flesh,  were  performing  mass  before  the  grand  altar ; 

*  For  an  account  of  an  odd  amour  of  San  Francisco,  see  Hudi- 
bras,  Part  II.  Canto  II. 


140  SCENES    IN   SPAIN. 

while  the  open  area  of  the  church  was  filled  with 
the  congregation,  the  men  humbly  kneeling,  and  the 
women  seated  on  the  floor  with  their  feet  tucked  up 
beneath  them.  At  the  tinkling  of  the  little  bell  all 
assumed  a  kneeling  posture,  bowing  the  head,  and 
smiting  the  breast ;  and  as  they  left  the  church, 
every  one  stopped  to  dip  a  finger  in  the  consecrat- 
ed water,  and  sign  the  sign  of  the  cross,  pausing 
reverently  at  the  door  to  make  a  genuflexion,  with 
the  face  turned  towards  the  great  altar.  To  cover 
the  head  before  leaving  the  church,  as  is  a  custom 
not  unfrequent  in  Protestant  countries,  would  be  con- 
sidered not  only  indecorous,  but  an  absolute  profa- 
nation by  the  Catholic,  whose  devout  demeanour  in 
his  religious  exercises  might  teach  a  good  example 
to  sects  who  upbraid  him  with  superstition  and  ido- 
latry. 

When  we  started  in  the  afternoon,  we  were  fol- 
lowed beyond  the  limits  of  Osuna  by  a  tribe  of 
bare-headed  and  tawny  urchins,  the  sons  of  our 
mayorals  and  men,  who  had  come  out  with  their  pa- 
rents to  take  leave,  and  at  length  unwillingly  left 
them,  crying  out  their  "  adios,"  and  "  God  be  with 
you,"  till  their  voices  were  lost  in  the  distance. 


APPROACH    TO    SEVILLE.  141 

Some  of  them,  who  had  been  honoured  by  the  emi- 
nent distinction  of  a  seat  on  the  may  oral's  bench, 
lingered  with  us  for  half  a  league  ;  doubtless  look- 
ing forward  with  ambitious  and  curious  longing  to 
the  happy  time  when  they  should  be  big  enough  to 
play  the  mayoral  themselves,  and  go  to  see  the  far- 
off  wonders  of  Seville. 

Just  without  the  town,  a  great  many  labourers, 
who  had  discharged  their  Sabbath  duties  by  hearing 
mass  in  the  morning,  were  thrashing  the  newly- 
gathered  grain,  which  was  performed  by  the  tramp- 
ling of  a  number  of  mules  and  horses  tied  together 
and  driven  round  in  a  ring.  The  chaff  is  after- 
wards separated  from  the  wheat  by  tossing  it  from 
head  to  heap.  In  the  neighbourhood  of  Osuna 
there  were  many  olive  orchards ;  but  as  we  ad- 
vanced, the  cultivated  fields  became  more  rare,  and 
many  unlaboured  and  wild  tracts  bespoke  a  gene- 
ral decline  and  insecurity. 

We  were  now  drawing  towards  the  close  of  our 
journey.  We  halted  in  the  evening  at  a  little  pueblo, 
and  on  the  following  night  performed  our  last 
stage,  and  found  ourselves  at  day -break  within  sight 
of  the  towering  Giralda,  the  far-famed  belfry  of  the 


142  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

noble  old  cathedral  of  Seville.  Near  the  city  gate 
were  assembled  many  droves  of  horses,  mules,  and 
asses,  who  were  stopped  there  to  pay  the  duties, 
which,  by  the  wretched  system  of  the  Spanish 
Aduana,  are  exacted  on  merchandize  and  produce 
entering  the  city.  Here  also  our  galeras  came  to  a 
short  halt,  while  the  passengers  delivered  their  pass- 
ports and  received  a  ticket  for  them,  to  be  presented 
the  next  day  at  the  Police. 

Here,  also,  we  were  met  by  an  antiquated  coach, 
such  as  the  reader  may  see  in  the  plates  of  Gil  Bias, 
drawn  by  a  pair  of  tall,  slender-legged,  and  well-sha- 
ven mules,  and  driven  by  a  withered  old  coachman, 
in  a  cocked  hat  and  obsolete  livery,  assisted  by  a 
footman  similarly  attired.  In  the  coach  were  two 
Spanish  dames,  with  fans  and  black  lace  mantillas, 
whose  wrinkles  and  sallow  faces  were  in  good  keep- 
ing with  their  ancient  equipage.  They  at  once 
broke  out  into  a  volley  of  welcomes  to  the  Sevilla- 
na,  accompanied  by  a  rapid  shaking  of  their  closed 
fans  ;  for  the  Spanish  women  have  a  way  of  talk- 
ing with  their  fans  as  well  as  with  their  tongues. 
These  were  answered  in  the  same  way  by  our  fair 
fellow-traveller,  who  presently  crawled  out  of  the 


SEVILLE*  L43 

galera,  resumed  her  gay  bonnet  which  had  spent  a 
sinecure  week  dangling  at  the  back  of  the  galera, 
and  was  handed  by  the  smiling  footman  into  the  car- 
riage. As  the  long-eared  mules  trotted  demurely 
away,  the  kisses  and  greetings  of  the  Sevillana  and 
her  ancient  friends  were  heard  amid  the  cracking  of 
the  whip  and  the  long-drawn  "  arre"  of  the  old 
coachman. 


CHAP.    X. 

SEVILLE. 

THE  galeras  of  Don  Manuel  being  driven  off  to 
be  examined  at  the  Custom  House,  the  passengers 
entered  the  city  on  foot,  each  hiding  himself  closely 
in  cloak  and  sombrero,  to  cover  his  dusty  and  road- 
worn  attire.  Those  who  had  friends  in  Seville  went 
to  their  houses,  while  such  of  us  as  were  strangers 
in  the  city  of  the  Giralda  sought  the  mercenary  and 
comfortless  hospitality  of  a  Fonda. 

The  inn  at  which  we  halted,  after  threading  our 
way  through  several  narrow  and  winding  streets, 


144  SCENES    IN   SPAIN. 

was  a  low-roofed  brick  building,  with  the  exterior 
walls  plastered  ;  a  Moorish  usage,  which  does  very 
well  in  the  mild  climate  of  Andalusia,  where  severe 
cold  is  unknown,  or  at  least  unusual.  The  windows 
were  covered  with  iron  cages,  a  universal  custom  in 
Spain,  which  originated  in  those  lawless  times  when 
a  man's  house  was  literally  his  castle,  and  which 
there  is  still  perhaps  sufficient  insecurity  to  justify. 
A  little  iron  cross  was  nailed  over  the  portal,  the 
sacred  emblem  of  the  faith,  and  perhaps  a  fancied 
charm  against  the  evil  one ;  for  in  Spain  religion  and 
superstition  go  hand  in  hand. 

The  posadero,  in  coarse  velvet  breeches,  blue  wool- 
len hose,  and  a  jacket  of  brown  cloth,  adorned  with 
silk  braid  and  silver  clasps,  was  sitting  at  the  wide 
portal.  We  asked  for  a  room  ;  but  our  host,  rising 
and  lifting  his  sombrero  with  one  hand,  while  with 
the  stained  fingers  of  the  other  he  struck  off  the 
ashes  from  his  paper  cigarillo,  replied,  "  No  hay, 
caballeros."  While  I  stood  in  a  state  of  irresolution, 
twirling  my  hat  in  my  hand,  for  it  was  too  early  to 
seek  the  house  of  a  family  to  whom  a  friend  had 
addressed  me,  the  long-eared  mules  of  Don  Manuel 
appeared  round  the  corner,  bringing,  at  a  brisk  trot, 


SEVILLE.  145 

the  unburdened  galeras.  The  zagals  unharnessed 
them,  and  led  the  willing  beasts  through  the  wide 
portal  of  the  inn,  and  thence  through  the  patio,  or 
central  court-yard  to  the  stables.  Then  they  tumbled 
out  the  trunks,  bandboxes,  beds,  and  pillows  of  the 
passengers,  and  threw  them  all  into  a  little  room 
near  the  door,  which  also  served  as  a  depository  for 
the  trappings  of  the  mules  and  the  furniture  of  the 
galeras.  "  Goza  de  tu  poco,  mientras  busca  mas  el 
loco,"  says  the  adage, — "  Enjoy  the  little  you  have, 
and  let  the  fool  go  hunting  for  more."  Certain 
that  in  looking  for  another  posada  I  should  find  the 
same  dirt  and  dearth  of  accommodations,  and  per- 
haps fare  worse  by  going  further,  I  contrived  to 
make  my  toilet  in  the  best  manner  I  was  able  in 
the  little  room  beside  the  door,  within  hearing  of 
the  people  of  either  sex,  who  came  to  dun  Don 
Manuel  for  packages  and  parcels  from  Granada. 
Our  squinting  cosario  despatched  the  ugly  and  old 
in  as  summary  a  manner  as  possible,  bidding  them 
"  go  with  God"  as  soon  as  he  had  satisfied  their 
inquiries ;  but  if  a  well-favoured  dame  presented 
herself,  his  ill-paired  eyes  lighted  up  with  a  gracious 
expression,  he  had  a  dozen  little  questions  and  many 
13 


146  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

a  broad  jest  to  make  them  linger ;  and  as  he  followed 
the  steps  of  the  receding  fair  one  to  the  door,  hat  in 
hand,  he  would  call  after  her,  "  Hemosa  hasta  otro 
ratito,  si  Dios  quiere !"  "  Till  we  meet  again,  my 
pretty  one,  if  God  pleases."  The  dame  or  damsel 
thus  complimented,  could  not  do  less,  as  she  stepped 
away  with  the  elastic  tread  and  enticing  grace  of 
the  Andaluza,  than  cast  back  on  the  gallant  cosario 
a  satisfied  glance  over  her  shoulder,  and  salute  him 
with  a  farewell  shake  of  her  fan. 

Having  got  rid  of  some  of  the  dust  of  our  journey, 
and  despatched  a  cup  of  chocolate  and  a  bizcocho,  I 
bethought  myself  that  I  was  in  the  city  of  Figaro, 
and  sallied  out  to  see  if  I  could  find  any  of  his 
descendants  to  lop  off  a  week's  growth  from  my  chin. 
As  I  went,  I  looked  over  the  doors  of  the  houses  for 
the  copper  basin,  the  bandaged  leg  and  arm,  the  signs 
of  this  shaving,  bleeding,  and  tooth-drawing  frater- 
nity. These  I  presently  discovered,  and  raising  the 
striped  curtain  which  hung  before  the  door,  a  com- 
fortable device  to  shut  out  the  sun  and  admit  the  air, 
which  is  said  to  have  been  introduced  by  the  Moors, 
I  found  the  barber  within.  He  was  a  thin,  dry  man, 
with  a  long  nose  and  a  grave  aspect,  quite  unlike 


A    BARBER    OF    SEVILLE.  147 

-*  •     '    '  -'' 

him  of  the  opera  ;  at  least  as  I  had  seen  him  repre- 
sented by  the  inimitable  Lablache,  that  soul  of  good 
humour  and  picture  of  good  condition.  But  in  one 
respect  he  was  like  the  merry  Figaro.  A  guitar, 
which  hung  amidst  copper  basins,  towels,  and  racks 
of  razors,  showed  that  he  was  a  lover  of  music,  which 
indeed  has  been  a  universal  characteristic  of  the  fra- 
ternity in  Spain  from  time  out  of  mind.  The  obser- 
vant Quevedo,  in  consideration  of  the  natural  pro- 
pensity of  the  barbers  to  tinkling  this  instrument, 
proposed  that  they  should  abandon  the  curtain  and 
the  copper  basin,  and  hang  up  a  guitar  in  their  stead.* 
Having  saluted  me  with  a  profound  bow,  and  a 
"  Para  servir  a  usted,  caballero,"  he  tucked  a  towel 
round  my  throat ;  then  putting  a  little  hot  water  and 
a  piece  of  soap  in  a  copper  basin,  he  applied  the 
instrument  beneath  my  chin  where  the  hole  is  made 
in  the  rim  to  receive  the  neck.  Supporting  the  basin 
with  his  left  hand,  he  lathered  my  face  with  his  right, 
rubbing  round  and  round,  upward  and  downward, 
with  as  great  assiduity  as  the  nun  rubbed  the  lame 
leg  of  Corporal  Trim.  Having  thus  mollified  the 
,  and  strapped  his  razor  for  half  a  minute  with 

*  Q,uevedo,-^Pragmatica  del  tiempo. 


148  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

Andaluzia  vivacity,  he  came  to  the  crowning  part  of 
the  operation,  which  was  effected  in  a  trice,  my  beard 
being  still  in  its  infancy,  and  tractable  in  spite  of  a 
week's  neglect.  This  done,  I  took  my  leave  with 
the  customary  remuneration  of  a  rial,  and  a  com- 
mendation to  God's  guardianship,  which  he  return- 
ed with  the  usual  compliment :  "  Cavalier,  may 
your  worship  go  in  a  good  hour/' 

Passing  along  the  street  of  Genoa,  which  was 
filled  with  shops  of  trades-people,  I  presently  came 
to  the  famous  old  cathedral,  and  was  equally  sur- 
prised at  the  grandeur  of  its  dimensions  and  the 
irregularity  of  its  form.  Beside  it  rose  the  tall 
tower  of  the  Giralda,  a  light  Moorish  edifice,  whose 
height  the  Christians  increased  by  adding  a  belfry  at 
the  summit,  where  hang  a  great  many  bells,  big 
and  little,  bearing  the  dignified  appellations  of  San 
Pedro,  San  Pablo,  and  a  score  of  saints,  male  and 
female,  painted  over  each.  I  toiled  my  way  up  the 
winding  staircase,  not  on  an  armed  war-horse  as  did 
some  knights  of  old,  nor  on  a  donkey  like  one  of  the 
good  queens  of  Spain,  but  as  an  humble  pedestrian  ; 
stopping  at  intervals  to  get  breath,  and  then  plodding 
upward  and  upward  till  I  reached  a  little  shrine  and 


THE    CATHEDRAL.  149 

image  of  Our  Lady,  and  presently  stepped  forth  upon 
the  terrace.  Just  above  stands  the  Giralda,  the  bra- 
zen female  image  which  has  given  its  name  to  the 
tower,  and  is  the  grand  weathercock  of  Seville.  Per- 
haps to  the  amiableness  of  this  brazen  dame,  who 
whirls  about  with  every  breeze  so  that  one  knows  not 
how  to  take  her,  may  be  traced  the  phrase  of  "  hija  de 
la  Giralda,"  a  term  of  reproach  to  such  giddy  people 
as  tell  wild  tales,  and  contradict  the  assertion  of  one 
moment  by  the  asseveration  of  the  next. 

Though  the  exterior  of  the  cathedral  was  a  vene- 
rable mass  of  deformity,  the  interior  was  a  happy 
union  of  simplicity  and  grandeur,  with  its  long  solemn 
aisles,  its  sturdy  stone  columns,  and  its  bold  arches 
of  massive  mason  work,  which  time  had  tinged  with 
a  dusky  and  sombre  hue.  Priests  were  moving  ac- 
cross  the  aisles  in  different  directions,  some  going  to 
perform  their  devotions  at  one  altar,  some  at  another ; 
for,  from  the  vast  size  of  the  church,  the  prayers  of- 
fered at  one  shrine  were  inaudible  at  the  rest. 
Devotees,  mostly  women,  were  scattered  about  the 
church,  kneeling  with  rosary  in  hand  before  the 
shrines  of  the  various  saints.  In  this  way  they  make 
the  morning  round  from  altar  to  altar,  with  the  cus- 
13* 


150  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

ternary  prayers  and  genuflexions  at  each  shrine,  and 
obtain  thereby  a  certain  number  of  days  of  indulgence. 
Here  and  there,  a  stranger,  brought  thither  like  my- 
self more  by  curiosity  than  devotion,  and  inattentive 
to  holier  things,  might  be  seen  gazing  with  admira- 
tion on  the  glittering  ornaments  of  the  altars,  mea- 
suring with  his  eye  the  grandeur  of  the  long  aisles 
of  this  noble  temple,  or  studying  with  delight  the 
faithful    nature  and  sweet  simplicity  of  Murillo's 
pencil  in  some  of  his  most  happy  eiforts.     Not  even 
in  the  churches  in  Spain  is  one  free  from  the  tor- 
menting importunity  of  beggars.     I  was  admiring  a 
delightful  painting  of  the  great  Spanish  artist,  where 
an  angel  is  represented  leading  a  bright-eyed  boy  by 
the  hand,  when  an  old  woman,  with  a  long  rosary 
in  her  hand,  and  her  sallow  wrinkled  face  half  cover- 
ed by  a  tattered  and  long  mantilla,  came  up  to  me 
to  solicit  alms.    She  told  me  the  usual  tale,  perhaps 
too  often  true,  of  a  husband  sick  and  helpless,  and  a 
house  full  of  starving  children.     I  have  noticed  that 
the  mendicants  get  more  from  the  priests  than  from 
any  one  else  ;  they  doubtless  have  an  interest  in 
thus  cultivating  the  affections  of  the  poorer  classes. 
At  all  events  it  is  but  a  just  retribution,  that  they 


THE    CATHEDRAL.  151 

who  live  idly  luxuriously  by  the  sweat  of  the  poor 
man's  brow  should  restore  a  little  of  their  getting  in 
the  shape  of  alms. 

In  wandering  about  the  church  my  attention 
was  attracted  by  a  rough  sculpture  on  the  pave- 
ment of  an  antiquated  ship  or  galley  surmount- 
ing an  inscription.  It  was  much  worn  by  the 
feet  arid  knees  of  the  pious,  for  it  was  just  in 
front  of  a  shrine.  On  examining  the  inscription  I 
found  it  was  the  tomb  of  the  Adelantado,  the  son  of 
that  great  but  unfortunate  and  injured  man  who 
discovered  the  far-off  country  from  which  I  had 
begun  my  wanderings. 

Passing  out  of  this  noble  cathedral,  I  entered  a 
Plaza  or  open  place  where  stands  the  beautiful  and 
costly  edifice,  which  in  the  better  days  of  this  un- 
happy country  was  erected  for  an  Exchange.  Spain 
having  utterly  fallen  from  her  place  among  com- 
mercial nations,  and  Seville  having  participated 
in  the  common  decline,  the  building,  with  its  spa- 
cious court  and  commodious  chambers  is  almost  en- 
tirely deserted  by  merchants  and  money-changers. 
It  is  now  employed  as  a  grand  store-house  of 
American  records  relating  to  the  discoveries  and 


152  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

conquests  of  the  Spaniards  in  the  new  world.  Here 
our  distinguished  countryman  found  many  rich 
materials  to  aid  him  in  that  beautiful  work,  which, 
while  it  perpetuates  the  fame  of  Columbus,  will  be 
at  the  same  time  a  lasting  monument  to  his  own. 

Crossing  the  Plaza,  I  came  to  an  ancient  pile  of 
buildings,  once  the  residence  of  the  Moorish  mo- 
narch, but  which,  except  that  part  of  it  peculiarly 
set  apart  for  the  royal  reception,  has  undergone  va- 
rious changes  to  adapt  it  for  the  uses  of  private  oc- 
cupation. In  a  part  of  this  Alcazar  or  palace  lived 
the  English  family  to  which  I  was  addressed.  Sit- 
ting in  the  shade  of  the  wall  were  slovenly  soldiers 
off  duty;  some  making  their  paper  cigars,  and 
others  lazily  dozing  away  the  time  till  they  should 
be  called  to  relieve  the  guard  at  the  prison  hard  by. 
Entering  a  small  court  or  ante-room,  paved  with 
bricks,  and  pulling  the  bell-cord,  I  was  reconnoitred 
through  a  hole  in  the  ceiling  some  twenty  feet 
above,  and  saluted  with  the  usual  demand  of 
"quien?"  Returning  the  formula  with  the  custo- 
mary assurance  of  my  peaceable  intentions,  the 
door  swung  open  with  a  jerk,  and  I  ascended  a 
winding  staircase.  The  walls  were  of  a  ponderous 


THE    ALCAZAR.  153 

thickness,  and  looked  as  sturdy  as  the  bastion  of  a 
fortress.  The  lady  of  the  house  bade  me  welcome 
in  my  native  English,  which,  with  all  its  hissing, 
guttural,  and  sputtering  intonations,  so  unlike  the 
harmonious  Spanish,  yet  sounded  musical  to  my 
ears.  A  gallego  was  despatched  for  my  baggage, 
and  I  felt  half  at  home  though  in  a  land  of  stran- 
gers. 

Immediately  opposite  the  house  was  a  gloomy 
building,  called  the  Carcel  Militar,  or  military  prison. 
Here  were  confined  a  colonel  and  two  other  officers, 
the  hapless  victims  of  Spanish  despotism.  They 
were  suspected  of  having  been  connected  with  the 
recent  troubles  at  Cadiz  and  in  the  North,  those 
impotent  efforts  of  the  disheartened  friends  of  revo- 
lution. The  brother  of  one  of  these  officers  was 
at  the  same  moment  a  prisoner  of  state  at  Madrid. 
Hope  will  slip  past  the  bolts  and  bars  of  a  Spanish 
prison,  to  comfort  even  the  victim  of  Spanish  tyran- 
ny. These  poor  fellows,  thus  confined  at  some  hun- 
dreds of  miles  apart,  and  on  that  foulest  of  charges, 
the  having  dared  to  dream  of  liberty,  sometimes  con- 
soled themselves  perchance  with  the  sweet  illusion 
that  they  might  ere  long  be  locked  in  each  other's  em- 


154  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

brace.  They  probably  little  thought  that  on  the  very 
same  day  they  should  hang  ignominiously  from  the 
scaffolds  of  Madrid  and  Seville,  a  fearful  example  to 
the  friends  of  that  freedom  whose  very  name .  is  an 
abomination  to  all  loyal  lovers  of  the  throne  and 
the  altar.  I  used  often  to  see  these  prisoners  look- 
ing disconsolately  through  the  gratings  that  separat- 
ed them  from  the  careless  world  without.  Though 
not  pinioned  or  shackled,  they  were  narrowly  watch- 
ed. An  efficient  guard  was  kept  at  the  prison-doors, 
and  a  sentinel  stood  all  day  and  all  night  long  be- 
neath their  windows,  where  he  was  out  of  sight  of 
the  prisoners.  Through  the  kindness  of  the  com- 
manding officer,  who  in  this,  perhaps,  overstepped 
the  strict  limits  of  his  duty,  the  colonel's  wife  was 
allowed  to  come  occasionally  within  the  prison  to 
visit  him.  I  also  sometimes  saw  him  pacing  up 
and  down  his  room  with  a  chubby  faced  boy  by 
the  hand,  who  was  now  and  then  permitted  to 
console  the  sadness  and  solitude  of  his  parent.  In 
the  evenings,  when  he  would  be  sitting  in  his 
cheerless  chamber  with  his  head  leaning  on  his 
hand,  reading  by  a  flickering  light  which  feebly 
illuminated  the  apartment,  and  threw  into  relief 


THE    ALCAZAR.  155 

the  stout  grating  of  the  window,  it  reminded  me 
of  scenes  I  had  beheld  at  the  theatre,  or  in  the  pic- 
tures of  Ghiardo  deila  Notte.  These  men  had  been 
thrown  into  prison  on  suspicion,  and  perhaps  they 
had  never  received  a  specification  of  the  crimes  with 
which  they  were  charged ;  for  these  are  idle  forms 
which  despotic  justice  despises.  They  knew  not 
when  they  would  be  brought  to  trial,  and  if  they 
chose  to  look  on  the  dark  side  of  the  picture,  might 
perhaps  expect  to  be  confined  for  years  without  any 
trial  at  all.  However,  they  were  much  better  off 
than  some  of  their  fellow-sufferers.  They  could 
see  the  light  of  the  sun  and  breathe  the  fresh  air ; 
nay,  participate  at  times  in  the  sweet  and  cheering 
intercourse  of  children  and  friends  ;  while  another 
officer,  confined  on  the  very  same  charge  of  political 
infidelity,  was  shut  up  in  the  damp  and  darkness  of 
a  subterranean  dungeon  beneath  the  gate  of  the 
prison  which  stands  in  the  Plaza  Real. 


156 


CHAP.    XI. 

ATTRACTIONS    OF    SEVILLE. 

THE  traveller  will  never  be  at  a  loss  for  objects 
of  interest  to  employ  a  sojourn  of  many  days  at  Se- 
ville. Foremost,  perhaps,  among  its  attractions, 
one  should  visit  the  paintings  of  the  delightful 
Murillo,  who  has  left  so  many  memorials  of  his 
genius  in  that  city,  where  he  laboured  diligently 
for  many  years.  These  are  scattered  about  in  the 
churches  and  convents,  and  in  the  collections  of  in- 
dividuals. Perhaps  there  are  no  paintings  which 
possess,  in  so  great  a  degree  as  his,  the  power  of 
pleasing  both  the  practised  eye  of  the  connoisseur 
and  that  of  the  untaught  in  the  mysteries  of  the  art ; 
two  classes  which  do  not  always  harmonize  in  their 
tastes. 

Some  very  agreeable  pictures  of  the  Spanish 
Apelles  I  found  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  city  in  the 
convent  of  the  Capuchins,  a  long-bearded  and 
bare-footed  fraternity ;  who,  however  they  may  pride 
themselves  on  the  possession  of  these  treasures,  but 


PAINTINGS    OF    MURILLO.  157 

little  understand  the  art  of  preserving  them.  Such 
is  the  unhappy  fate  of  many  noble  paintings  in 
Spain  and  Italy,  exposed  with  little  or  no  care  in 
dark,  gloomy  churches  and  convents,  where  the 
dust  gathers  on  them  year  after  year  and  century 
after  century,  and  where  the  curious  lover  of  the 
arts,  by  the  dim  and  uncertain  light  that  finds  its  way 
through  stained  windows  and  into  gloomy  shrines 
and  recesses,  can  just  see  that  a  good  painting  is 
there,  whose  merits  are  provokingly  clouded  by  the 
dirt  and  the  obscurity.  I  have  often  wished  that  the 
despotic  sovereigns  in  those  two  unhappy  countries, 
since  they  will  play  the  oppressors  in  so  many 
other  matters,  would  act  in  this  with  similar  disre- 
gard to  the  laws  of  meum  and  tuum ;  and,  laying 
their  hands  on  all  these  neglected  and  decaying 
treasures,  gather  them  into  the  public  galleries. 
There  some  pains  would  be  spent  on  their  preserva- 
tion, and  the  artist  and  the  traveller  could  enjoy 
them  fully.  But  this  forbearance  is  readily  ex- 
plained. Such  an  appropriation  of  their  goods 
would  oifend  the  clergy ;  and  for  these  despotic  po- 
tentates to  forfeit  the  good-will  of  the  church,  would 

be  an  act  of  political  suicide. 
14 


158  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

Among  the  other  amusements  of  Seville  may  be 
classed  the  sports  of  the  amphitheatre.  The  bull- 
fight, the  darling  exhibition  of  the  lower  classes,  is 
no  where  conducted  with  greater  skill.  The  bulls 
of  Andalusia  surpass  those  of  every  other  part  of 
Spain  in  bravery,  and  the  Plaza  itself  yields  to  none 
other  in  size.  It  was,  perhaps,  from  the  superior 
address  of  the  Sevillians  in  the  bloody  sports  of  the 
arena  that  their  city  was  chosen  for  the  school  of 
tauromachy.  There  the  whole  art  is  regularly 
taught,  and  the  young  aspirant  to  bull-fighting  re- 
nown is  enabled  to  try  his  untutored  prowess  on  cows 
and  oxen  destined  for  the  shambles,  till  he  gradu- 
ally attains  skill  and  courage  to  dare  the  fierce 
fathers  of  the  herd  before  the  assembled  thousands 
of  the  Plaza.  One  visit  to  this  place  was  quite 
enough  to  satisfy  my  curiosity. 

Having  learned  the  site  of  the  school,  and  been 
called  at  an  early  hour  by  the  punctual  Dolores, 
the  Maritornes  of  the  house,  I  bent  my  steps  towards 
this  bull-fighting  college,  which  lies  without  the 
gates  of  the  city.  The  entrance  was  through  a 
filthy  slaughter-house,  where  several  butchers  were 
killing  cattle,  their  shirt-sleeves  and  trowsers  rolled 


SCHOOL    OF    TAUROMACHY.  159 

up,  and  their  legs  and  arms  spattered  with  blood.  I 
stopped  to  inquire  for  the  amphitheatre  of  the  school. 
The  savage  looking  fellow  to  whom  I  addressed 
myself,  and  who  was  stripping  the  hide  from  the 
smoking  carcass  of  an  unlucky  cow,  pointed,  with 
the  bloody  blade  of  his  long  knife,  to  a  neighbouring 
gate.  It  just  then  flew  open,  and  out  rushed  a  poor 
ox  upon  whom  the  pupils  had  been  practising.  His 
coat  was  sprinkled  with  blood,  and  gashed  in  many 
places  with  the  pike  and  the  banderilla ;  his  mouth 
and  dewlap  were  covered  with  foam ;  and  his  star- 
ing eyes,  his  horns  thrown  up  wildly  in  the  air, 
and  his  headlong  career,  showed  that  torture  had 
driven  away  for  a  moment  his  accustomed  meek- 
ness, and  had  frightened  the  poor  beast  into  some- 
thing like  resistance.  Two  or  three  butchers 
presently  rushed  towards  him,  and  having  thrown 
a  noose  over  his  horns,  they  passed  the  rope  through 
a  ring,  and  with  much  difficulty  dragged  the  strug- 
gling victim  to  it.  When  his  head  was  brought 
close  to  the  ground,  and  he  was  thus  deprived  of 
the  means  of  resistance,  a  blow  of  the  axe  directed 
on  the  forehead,  speedily  released  him  from  tor- 
ture. 


160  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

A  few  cuartos  gained  me  admittance  to  the  am- 
phitheatre, where  I  found  collected  many  vulgar- 
looking  fellows;  some  embryo  bull-fighters,  and 
other  spectators  of  their  youthful  efforts.  The 
place  was  arranged  like  the  Plaza  de  Toros,  having 
a  small  arena,  round  which  rose  the  barrier  and 
seats  for  the  spectators.  A  young  steer  was  flying 
about  the  arena  with  banderillas  sticking  in  his 
neck,  and  several  chulos  were  vying  with  each 
other  to  increase  his  torment  by  fastening  others. 
The  steer  being  at  length  let  out  by  the  gate 
which  opened  upon  the  slaughter-yard,  an  old 
bull  was  introduced,  whose  bravery  and  vigour 
had  been  broken  down  by  years.  There  was 
still,  however,  something  formidable  in  his  broad 
shoulders,  his  short,  pointed  horns,  and  his  digni- 
fied bearing,  compared  with  that  of  the  steer  which 
had  preceded  him.  The  younger  boys  stood  aloof 
or  retreated  over  the  barrier,  leaving  their  more 
dexterous  schoolmates  to  cope  with  the  new-comer. 
Banderilla  after  banderilla  planted  in  his  neck, 
awakened  this  broken-down  veteran  to  the  lost  fire 
of  his  youth,  and  he  began  to  rush  boldly  about 
the  arena.  At  length  a  young  matador  brought  out 


SCHOOL    OF    TAUROMACHY.  161 

the  Jong,  heavy  sword  to  kill  him ;  but  although  the 
bull  charged  boldly  and  steadily  enough,  the  wea- 
pon was  wielded  by  an  awkward  arm  ;  now  gashing 
the  neck  of  the  poor  beast,  now  flying  into  the  air 
as  it  recoiled  from  striking  a  bone.  The  unskilful 
scholar  could  not  hit  that  fatal  spot  where  the  sword, 
duly  directed,  may  hide  itself  to  the  hilt,  carrying 
speedy  death  to  the  heart  of  the  victim ;  the  bull, 
gashed  and  streaming  with  blood,  was  presently  dis^ 
missed  to  the  surer  hands  of  the  butchers. 

I  soon  grew  tired  of  this  disgusting  exhibition ; 
for  here  was  cruelty  without  skill  and  vulgarity 
without  splendour.  In  the  regular  bull-fight,  though 
one  sees  horses  gored  to  death,  and  noble  beasts  tor- 
tured unsparingly,  yet  there  is  much  to  relieve  all 
this,  and  to  dignify  the  exhibition,  in  the  graceful 
dress  of  the  combatants,  all  adorned  with  gold  and 
embroidery;  in  the  rapid,  flitting  movements  of 
the  banderilleros ;  in  the  manly  attitude,  the  skill 
and  the  unwavering  composure  of  the  matador; 
in  the  shouts  of  thousands  of  exulting  and  deeply 
excited  spectators ;  and  in  the  headlong  bravery 
of  the  untamed  and  beautiful  lords  of  the  herd, 
brought  in  strong  and  sleek,  and  fiercely  brave, 
14* 


162  .7      SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

from  roaming  unconstrained  masters  over  mountain 
and  meadow. 

The  school  of  tauromachy,  unattractive  as  it  was, 
had  charms  for  an  eccentric  nobleman,  who  lived 
not  long  since  at  Seville.  The  arena  of  the  school 
was  his  frequent  resort,  and  sometimes  he  even  dared 
the  dangers  of  the  Plaza ;  but  on  the  latter  occasions 
he  did  not  greatly  distinguish  himself.  When  this 
amateur  matador  faced  the  fierce  charge  of  his  horn- 
ed antagonist,  his  face  would  turn  pale  and  the 
sword  tremble  in  his  hand ;  so  that  when  he  intend- 
ed to  gather  laurels  for  bravery  and  skill,  he  was 
too  often  rewarded  with  the  sneers  of  the  fair  and 
the  contempt  of  his  vulgar  compeers  of  the  arena. 
In  former  days,  ere  the  spirit  of  chivalry  was  extinct, 
and  ere  the  bull-fight  had  degenerated  into  a  vulgar 
amusement,  the  proudest  lords  of  the  land  entered 
the  lists,  and  met  the  bull  with  lance  and  sword. 
But  that  time  having  long  gone  by,  and  the  art  hav- 
ing fallen  into  the  hands  of  hirelings,  it  was  strange 
that  a  nobleman  should  have  forgotten  both  his  con- 
stitutional cowardice  and  the  dignity  of  his  condi- 
tion, in  the  passion  for  a  sport  conducted  only  by 
men  of  low  birth  and  debauched  habits. 


163 


CHAP.    XII. 

MADRID. 

AFTER  spending  two  or  three  weeks  at  Seville,  I 
departed  in  the  diligence  for  the  metropolis ;  and 
though  the  road  was  at  that  time  infested  by  ban- 
ditti, I  had  the  good  fortune  to  arrive  unharmed  in 
purse  or  person.  This  good  fortune  was,  however, 
very  accidental.  I  had  taken  my  seat  some  days 
previous,  when,  on  going  to  the  police  office,  some 
informality  was  discovered  in  my  passport,  and  I 
was  remanded  to  Cadiz  to  have  my  nationality  veri- 
fied by  the  American  consul  there.  This  seemed  at 
the  time  both  vexatious  and  embarrassing.  But  on 
learning,  on  my  return  to  Seville,  that  the  diligence 
in  which  I  had  previously  taken  my  passage  had 
been  robbed,  I  blessed  my  stars,  gave  over  denounc- 
ing the  impertinent  commissary,  and  was  more  than 
ever  disposed  to  assent  to  the  proposition  that  what- 
ever is,  is  right. 

I  found  the  inn  at  which  I  took  lodgings  at  Ma- 


164  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

drid  so  comfortless  a  place,  that  I  presently  went  in 
quest  of  private  lodgings.  After  a  day  or  two  I 
found  myself  snugly  domesticated  in  the  house  of  a 
lively  little  Madrilenian,  Dona  Bibiana  by  name. 
She  rented  the  first  floor  of  a  house  in  the  bustling 
Plazuela  del  Carmen,  and  lived  thriftily  herself  in  a 
sort  of  pigeon-hole  beside  the  kitchen,  while  she 
turned  a  penny  by  letting  the  rooms  to  lodgers. 

My  apartments  looked  out  upon  the  square  just 
mentioned,  which  was  used  as  a  market-place,  and 
was  filled  till  after  mid-day  with  a  crowd  of  buyers 
and  sellers.  ^  Vegetables,  meat,  sausages,  fruit,  and  va- 
rious commodities  were  here  exposed  for  sale  ;  and 
the  bustle  and  buz  began  from  the  peep  of  day.  At 
that  early  hour  the  vender  of  vegetables  brought  his 
store  in  straw  panniers  swung  across  the  back  of  a 
patient  ass  ;  and  the  butcher  came  with  his  load  of 
the  limbs  of  slaughtered  lambs,  calves,  and  kids, 
dangling  from  the  iron  hooks  of  a  large  wooden  sad- 
dle, which  was  set  upon  the  withers  of  his  horse, 
while  he  himself  was  perched  upon  the  rump 
behind.  Most  of  these  market  people  were  women  ; 
a  prating,  noisy,  higgling,  and  quarrelsome  tribe, 
whose  character  Dona  Bibiana  summed  up  by  as- 


PLAZUELA    DEL    CARMEN.  165 

suring  me,  that  out  of  forty,  you  might  find  one  de- 
cent and  the  rest  possessed  with  the  devil.  I  have 
often  been  attracted  to  the  balcony  by  the  stormy 
outcries  of  these  dames  of  the  market-place,  when 
some  petty  point  of  dispute  had  got  them  together 
by  the  ears.  As  they  screamed  forth  strange  oaths 
and  abuse,  and  tossed  their  sun-burnt  arms  about  with 
many  a  menace,  I  recalled  the  great  truth  of  San- 
cho  Panza's  sarcasm  on  this  class  of  people  when  he 
was  writing  from  his  island  of  Barataria  to  his  mas- 
ter Don  duixote.  "What  I  can  assure  your  wor- 
ship is  that,  according  to  the  report  of  the  town, 
there  is  not  a  more  wicked  set  of  people  than  these 
market  women ;  for  they  are  all  without  shame,  con- 
science, or  moderation  ;  and  indeed,  I  believe  the  re- 
ports from  what  I  have  seen  in  other  places." 

The  din  and  bustle  of  the  market-place,  though 
amusing  to  me,  was  not  much  to  the  taste  of  my 
little  landlady,  who  shortly  afterwards  changed  her 
domicil  to  the  more  modish  street  of  the  Gentleman 
of  Grace.  "Here,"  said  she,  "we  shall  see  many 
great  folks  pass,  and  no  longer  be  deafened  with  the 
everlasting  cries  of  the  Plazuela." 

Dona  Bibiana  being  a  poor,   lone  woman,   was 


166  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

obliged  to  live  with  much  thrift ;  and  after  paying 
the  landlord  and  the  aguador,  and  supplying  her  pip- 
kin with  its  daily  mess  of  bread  and  garbanzos,  she 
had  but  little  left  to  spend  in  fine  gowns  and  man- 
tillas. Nevertheless,  when  of  a  feast-day  she  would 
go  out  to  walk  in  the  street  of  Alcala  or  on  the  Pra- 
do,  she  made  a  very  decent  and  comely  appearance. 
Like  most  Spanish  women,  she  had  the  art  of  put- 
ting on  her  clothes  with  grace  ;  besides,  she  was 
but  twenty-five,  had  a  bright  pair  of  hazel  eyes,  and 
a  neat  little  foot  and  ancle.  Her  only  assistant  in 
the  cares  of  the  household  was  a  Gallego  lad,  an 
honest,  dull-witted  fellow,  who  ran  on  errands, 
cleaned  the  boots  of  the  lodgers,  and  performed  ma- 
ny little  offices  in-doors  and  out.  The  poor  lad, 
about  these  times,  was  in  great  trepidation  lest  he 
should  be  made  to  enlist ;  for  the  soldier's  life  in 
Spain  is  not  an  enviable  one.  It  is  true  that  now-a- 
days  he  is  not  much  in  the  way  of  blows ;  but  then 
his  pay  is  a  miserable  pittance,  which  poorly  com- 
pensates the  restraint  of  the  service.  I  asked  him 
one  day  why  he  did  not  marry,  and  thus  secure 
himself  against  the  chances  of  the  conscription.  But 
at  this  desperate  proposition  he  shook  his  head,  and 


THE    PRADO.  167 

seemed  to  think  it  little  better  than  shunning  Scylla 
by  running  upon  Chary bdis. 

It  was  an  easy  walk  from  the  house  of  Dona  Bi- 
biana  to  the  far-famed  Prado.  the  pride  of  the  Ma- 
drilenian  and  delight  of  the  traveller.  Thither  I  re- 
sorted daily  at  the  hour  of  the  paseo,  when  the 
scorching  heat  of  the  midsummer  sun  had  abated, 
and  the  inhabitants,  who  till  then  had  hid  them- 
selves within-doors,  issued  forth  in  crowds,  like  bees 
from  a  hive,  in  quest  of  fresh  air  and  exercise. 

The  Prado  of  Madrid,  with  its  motley  equipages, 
its  various  and  picturesque  costumes,  its  gay  crowds 
of  cavaliers  and  footmen,  its  alleys,  its  fountains,  and 
all  its  attractions,  so  winning  to  native  and  stranger, 
has  been  so  often  described,  that  the  reader  would 
not  thank  me  for  a  lame  account  of  a  scene  with 
which  he  is  already  familiar.  But  if  he  wishes  to 
know  the  story  or  the  character  of  a  few  of  the 
individuals  who  figure  in  this  moving  pageant,  and 
will  take  a  seat  with  me  on  one  of  the  rush-bottomed 
chairs  beside  the  main  walk  —  it  will  cost  us  but 
two  cuartos  —  I  will  try  to  while  away  a  half  hour 
for  him. 

Yonder  over-dressed  dandy,  who  swings  a  whale- 


' , 

168  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 


bone  walking-stick  with  the  self-satisfied  air  of  a 
man  of  fashion,  and  turns  out  his  toes  with  a  certain 
professional  precision,  is  Don  Juan  Baylarin,  a  vo- 
tary of  Terpsichore  and  dancing-master  to  the  fami- 
ly of  an  Infante.  Don  Juan  was  in  extensive  prac- 
tice in  a  private  way ;  but  being  ambitious  of  add- 
ing to  his  revenue  and  having  his  name  enrolled  on 
the  glittering  lists  of  court  patronage,  he  determined, 
by  God's  blessing,  to  change  the  obscurity  of  private 
life  for  a  place  in  the  palace  under  the  auspices  of 
Don  Carlos.  But  how  to  do  this  was  the  question ; 
he  had  been  a  great  rake,  and  his  irreligious  cha- 
racter would  stand  in  his  way  with  a  godly  prince, 
who  was  the  idol  of  the  priesthood,  and  had  the 
credit  of  idolizing  the  priesthood  in  return.  To  ac- 
complish his  object  he  resolved  to  draw  the  charita- 
ble cloak  of  piety  over  his  gayety  and  vice.  He 
straightway  eschewed  the  society  of  libertines,  put 
on  a  long  and  grave  face,  and  was  seen,  day  by  day, 
going  to  mass  and  matins  in  the  Church  of  the 
Good  Event,  which  stands  in  the  Gate  of  the  Sun. 
-„ . -Here,  with  a  regularity  and  fervour  worthy  of  a 
more  sincere  devotion,  he  told  his  beads,  repeated 
Ave  upon  Ave  and  Pater  Noster  upon  Pater  Noster, 


A    COURT    DANCING-MASTER.  169 

beat  his  breast  with  contrition,  and  made  as  many 
genuflexions  as  a  Capuchin  friar.  By  these  good 
works  he  grew  in  favour,  if  not  with  God  at  least 
with  the  priesthood ;  and  being  regarded  as  a  de- 
vout man,  well  worthy  of  teaching  the  airs  and 
graces  to  pious  youths,  he  obtained,  through  their 
influence,  the  post  of  dancing-master  in  the  college 
of  Jesuits.  Thence  he  made  an  easy  step  into  the 
palace ;  he  was  made,  thanks  to  his  Aves  and  Pater 
Nosters,  the  dancing-master  to  the  family  of  Don 
Carlos,  where  he  has  a  snug  monthly  allowance, 
with  the  assurance  of  a  reasonable  pension  when 
his  superannuated  heels  can  no  longer  figure  in  the 
waltz  and  the  pigeon-wing. 

That  shabby-looking  man,  who  goes  slowly  and 
stealthily  along,  and  the  slovenliness  of  whose  at- 
tire is  doubtless  more  the  result  of  dissimulation  than 
poverty,  is  a  tailor,  who  has  often  acted  as  the  go- 
between  for  the  minister  of  Grace  and  Justice,  and 
those  hungry  pertendientes  who  crowd  to  Madrid  to 
get  offices  in  the  civil  or  ecclesiastical  service.  I 
heard  of  an  instance  which  might  be  cited  in  proof 
of  the  diplomatic  dexterity  of  this  man  of  the  needle 
and  shears.  A  gentleman  came  not  long  since  to 
15 


170  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

Madrid  to  apply  for  a  curacy  in  Estremadura  for  his 
brother.  Knowing  that  these  places  cost  money, 
and  that  the  virtue  of  a  Spanish  functionary,  like 
Danae's  of  old,  is  best  conquered  by  a  shower  of 
gold,  he  had  lined  his  purse  with  a  goodly  store  of 
ducats  before  setting  out  on  this  mission  of  fraternal 
love.  Hearing  that  the  tailor,  in  spite  of  the  hu- 
mility of  his  station,  was  a  man  of  singular  influ- 
ence with  the  exalted  personage  who,  from  the 
ministerial  chair  of  Grace  and  Justice,  dispensed 
the  loaves  and  fishes  of  court  patronage,  he  stated 
the  case  to  him,  and  also  begged  him  to  accept  the 
ducats  as  a  trifling  proof  of  his  esteem.  To  what 
use  this  official  pander  applied  the  money,  and 
whether  any  and  what  part  of  it  found  its  way  to 
the  pocket  of  the  minister,  are  points  which  I  can- 
not decide,  and  must  leave  to  the  imagination  of  the 
ingenious  reader.  Certain  it  is  that  the  patent  for 
the  curacy  was  presently  forthcoming,  and  the  Es- 
tremadurian  hied  with  it  in  his  pocket  to  the  arms  of 
the  hitherto  placeless  priest,  his  expecting  brother. 

The  next  individual  is  one  of  that  unlucky  class 
called  impurificados,  the  proscribed  friends  of  the 
fallen  Constitution.  I  mean  that  sad-looking  man 


AN    IMPURIPICADO.  171 

who  walks  so  demurely  with  his  eyes  on  the  ground, 
dressed  in  a  threadbare  surtout  buttoned  up  close  to 
his  chin,  doubtjess  to  hide  some  minor  deficiency. 
When  the  short-lived  Constitutional  system  pre- 
vailed, he  had  a  good  employment  in  the  public  ser- 
vice; but  when  the  perjured  Ferdinand  was  re- 
stored to  his  sovereign  rights  —  "Sus  soberanos 
derecfoos,"  as  they  are  termed,  that  privilege  to 
tyrannize  over  his  fellow-creatures,  which,  as  all 
good  royalists  will  tell  you,  was  conferred  by  God 
himself — that  jus  divinum  which  it  is  not  only  trea- 
sonable but  impious  to  doubt  —  he  was  displaced 
and  proscribed,  and  is  now  a  helpless  wreck  on  the 
ocean  of  life.  He  is  an  unhappy  man,  shunned  by 
all  loyal  subjects,  and  shunning  his  own  friends, 
lest  the  pollution  of  his  political  heresy  should  awa- 
ken against  them  the  suspicion  of  the  jealous  and 
Argus-eyed  police.  This  poor  fellow  sent  the  other 
day  to  a  gentleman  of  my  acquaintance,  saying  that 
his  wife  has  just  been  brought  to  bed  of  her  sixth 
child,  and  begging  him,  for  God's  sake,  to  lend  him 
ten  ducats  to  buy  food  for  his  family.  This  is  not 
a  solitary  instance  ;  it  has  too  many  parallels  in 
every  part  of  Spain. 


172  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

But  here  comes  a  contrast  to  this  victim  of  wretch- 
edness and  want.  Yonder  ill-formed,  dwarfish  man, 
who  lolls  in  his  landau  behind  those  spirited  Andalu- 
sian  horses,  is  one  of  the  richest  grandees  in  Spain. 
His  ancestors,  time  out  of  mind,  were  among  the 
most  powerful  lords  of  the  land,  and  had  the  signo- 
rial  right  of  many  scores  of  villages.  The  rents 
and  revenues  of  the  Duke  are  many  hundred,  thou- 
sand ducats  a  year ;  and  yet  the  poor  little  man  is 
as  close-fisted  as  Pygmalion  of  old.  It  has  been  re- 
marked of  this  lordly  house,  that  for  several  genera- 
tions back  its  representatives  have  been  alternately 
spendthrifts  or  misers  ;  a  circumstance  which  might 
be  accounted  for  by  the  extravagance  of  a  parent 
throwing  upon  his  son  an  embarrassed  estate,  requir- 
ing thrift  and  nursing  to  restore  its  impaired  vigour. 
A  little  anecdote  might  illustrate  the  contradictory 
characters  of  the  present  Duke  and  his  predecessor. 
When  a  lad,  he  was  standing  one  day  at  the  door  of 
his  father's  palace,  that  overgrown  building  which 
you  may  see  yonder  from  the  Prado,  when  a  poor 
man  came  with  a  valuable  bird,  which  he  had  taught 
with  great  pains  a  variety  of  little  tricks.  These 
were  exhibited  to  the  admiring  lad;  the  youthful 


A    GRANDEE.  173 

miser  was  pleased  with  the  bird,  and  taking  the 
cage  with  its  cunning  little  prisoner,  drew  out  his 
purse  and  handed  the  expecting  peasant  a  solitary 
dollar.  The  poor  man  was  sadly  disappointed,  and 
stood  at  the  door,  looking  at  his  pet  which  he  had 
reared  with  such  a  deal  of  trouble,  and  hesitating 
between  the  desire  of  reclaiming  it  and  the  fear  of 
offending  the  son  of  a  duke.  Just  then  the  father 
came,  admired  the  bird ;  but  observing  the  disap- 
pointment depicted  on  the  peasant's  countenance, 
asked  him  what  was  the  matter.  "  My  Lord,"  said 
the  peasant,  "  I  spent  many  a  £long  day  in  teaching 
the  bird,  and  it  seems  to  me  it  might  perhaps  be 
worth  more  than  these  two  ducats."  "  What,  said 
the  Duke,"  mortified  at  the  meanness  of  his  child, 
and  determined  to  outdo  it  by  an  equal  stretch  of  ge- 
nerosity, "  is  not  a  dollar  enough  ?  Surely  a  dollar  a 
day  for  the  rest  of  your  life  is  as  much  as  you  could 
have  expected.  Go  to  my  contador,  and  tell  him  to 
put  you  down  on"  the  list  of  my  pensioners  for  a 
pension  of  seven  hundred  ducats  a  year." 

Profusion,  rather  than  meanness,  is  the  general 
characteristic  of  the  Spanish  nobility.     Often  unen- 
lightened, and  of  course  unrefined,  they  seek  their 
15* 


174 


SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 


enjoyments  in  sensual  indulgence,  spend  their  reve- 
nues prodigally,  and  are  not  a  little  assisted  in  de- 
vouring the  yearly  produce  of  their  estates  by  their 
hungry  treasurers.  A  nobleman  engaged  in  the 
more  lordly  task  of  spending  money,  despises  the 
mean  care  of  cherishing  his  store.  Give  him  doub- 
loons enough  for  the  calls  of  the  ecarte  table  and 
the  demands  of  his  mistress,  and  his  treasurer  may 
look  to  the  vulgar  business  of  accounts.  Now  the 
treasurer  is  generally,  if  the  race  be  not  belied,  as 
conscientious  a  person  as  Gil  Bias'  friend,  Don  Gre- 
gorio  Rodriguez,  the  whilome  major-domo  of  Don 
Matias  de  Silva.  The  nobleman  knows  he  is  rob- 
bed :  but  to  be  robbed  by  a  contador  is  what  his  an- 
cestors have  suffered  timeout  of  mind,  and  good  old 
customs  are  not  easily  dropped  by  the  Spaniard.  I 
once  heard  of  an  instance  of  a  Spanish  grandee,  who, 
instead  of  being  offended,  took  a  pride  in  the  fact 
that  his  steward  drove  a  finer  equipage  than  him- 
self. 

Yonder  dark-visaged,  scowling  man,  who  drives 
his  stanhope  a  1'Anglaise,  is  a  dethroned  potentate, 
the  ex-Duke  of  Brunswick,  who  was  banished  from 
his  realms  by  his  exasperated  and  outraged  subjects. 


A    DETHRONED    TYRANT.  175 

One  may  read  in  his  stern  and  forbidding  counte- 
nance the  cruel  brutality  of  his  disposition.  Among 
the  other  amiable  traits  of  this  princely  exile  is  an 
utter  aversion  to  paying  his  debts.  The  workmen 
who  were  employed  at  his  hotel  at  Aranjuez  have 
besieged  him  in  vain  for  their  neglected  bills,  and 
his  servants  are  regularly  driven  out  of  doors  at  the 
month's  end  for  having  the  impudence  to  ask  for 
their  wages.  The  Captain-General,  tormented  with 
many  complaints  brought  to  him  by  his  disappoint- 
ed creditors,  at  length  referred  the  matter  to  the  go- 
vernment, and  an  intimation  is  said  to  have  been 
given  to  his  troublesome  Highness  that  he  might 
have  his  passports  as  soon  as  he  pleased.  Among 
other  eccentricities  is  a  trick  he  has  of  calling  his  ser- 
vants, not  by  ringing  a  bell,  but  by  firing  a  pistol,  a 
pair  of  which  are  his  constant  companions.  This 
he  did  one  day  to  the  utter  consternation  of  a  poor 
tailor,  who  coming  into  his  chamber  to  take  the 
measure  of  his  princely  person,  was  suddenly  elec- 
trified by  the  discharge  of  a  pistol ;  upon  which  he 
fled  down  stairs  with  precipitation,  thinking  his  life 
was  in  danger.  In  truth  there  was  some  cause  to 
look  upon  him  with  apprehension ;  for  he  had  been 


176  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

known  to  threaten  to  blow  out  the  brains  of  his 
creditors  when  they  came  to  dun  him ;  and  once,  in  a 
burst  of  passion,  he  murdered  a  hapless  valet,  who  at 
the  risk  of  his  life  had  saved  his  portfeuille  and  dia- 
monds from  a  conflagration,  but  had  neglected  some- 
thing of  inferior  value. 

Yonder  pretty  woman  in  the  blue  cloth  riding- 
habit,  who  goes  scampering  up  and  down  on  a  gray 
gelding,  with  an  English  footman,  booted  and  spur- 
red, toiling  after  her  on  a  bob-tailed  bay,  is  the  mis- 
tress of  the  Duke  of  Brunswick.  He  contrives  to 
support  her  in  good  style,  though  deaf  to  the  inde- 
cent importunities  of  tailors,  carpenters,  servants,  and 
swarms  of  luckless  and  low-bred  creditors.  When 
she  first  came  to  Madrid,  she  went  about  in  man's 
attire ;  but  the  police  getting  an  inkling  of  it,  en- 
joined her  to  resume  her  petticoats  ;  since,  for  a  wo- 
man to  wear  breeches  was  a  thing  unsanctioned  by 
the  ancient  usages  of  Spain. 

That  little  old  man  in  a  slovenly  black  coat,  who 
wields  a  gold-headed  cane,  and  whose  wrinkled 
bro  ws  and  abstracted  air  would  intimate  that  he  is 
wrapped  in  some  profound  speculation,  is  a  learned 
doctor,  Don  Jacobo  Sanalotodo,  as  cunning  in  the 


A    PRIEST    AND    DOCTOR.  177 

healing  art  as  Chiron  the  Centaur.  He  was  once 
the  physician  of  the  Princess  of  Beria ;  but  having 
been  guilty  of  the  foul  crime  of  Liberalism  in  the  time 
of  the  Constitution,  the  Doctor  was  turned  away, 
when  despotism  rose  again  to  the  top  of  the  wheel 
and  free  principles  lay  grovelling  at  the  bottom. 
Still  such  is  the  confidence  reposed  in  this  Corifeus 
of  physicians,  that  if  the  princess  has  a  cold  in  her 
head  or  her  little  finger  aches,  a  message  is  at  once 
despatched  for  cure-all  Don  Jacobo. 

This  rosy-faced  curate,  whose  long  hat,  black  cas- 
sock, and  capeless  cloak,  so  glossy  and  new.  are  of 
richer  materials  than  the  clergy  are  wont  to  wear, 
and  whose  air  has  something  of  the  man  of  fashion 
engrafted  on  the  grave  character  of  the  ecclesiastic, 
is  Don  Lothario  Holgazan.  Though  a  servant  of 
the  church,  he  cares  not  a  fig  for  mass  and  confes- 
sional, fasts  and  vigils.  The  gayety  of  the  ball-room 
has  more  charms  for  him  than  the  pious  seclusion 
of  the  closet,  billets  doux  than  the  parchment  tomes 
of  Aquinas,  the  whispers  of  a  fair  lady  than  the 
croaking  of  the  choir,  and  a  good  hand  at  ecarte 
than  all  the  rosaries  that  were  ever  blessed  by  pre- 
late or  pontiff.  His  piety  is  about  as  profound  as 


178  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

Ambrose  de  Lamela's,  and  his  virtue  as  impregnable 
as  Pope  Joan's.  Yet  withal  he  is  a  lively,  pleasant 
fellow,  has  the  entree  to  the  houses  of  fashionable 
reunion,  is  smiled  upon  by  the  gentler  sex,  and  so 
may  snap  his  fingers  at  such  ill-natured  and  unrea- 
sonable people  as  choose  to  contrast  his  practice  and 
profession. 


CHAP.    XIII. 


MADRID. 


A  MATTER  which  the  stranger  must  look  to  imme- 
diately on  arriving  at  Madrid,  or  indeed  in  any  other 
Spanish  town,  is  the  arrangement  of  his  passport 
and  obtaining  the  permission  of  the  police  to  reside 
in  the  place.  This  costs  a  great  variety  of  errands 
to  one  functionary  and  another,  with  fees  to  the  por- 
ters at  the  various  bureaux,  and  a  contribution  of  a 
few  rials  to  his  majesty.  The  result  of  this  trouble 
in  my  case  was  that  I  received  a  "  carta  de  seguri- 


PASSPORTS.  179 

dad,"  or  letter  of  security,  authorizing  me  to  make 
my  abode  for  a  certain  period  in  the  house  of  Dona 
Bibiana  Buenahora,  in  the  royal  city  of  Madrid. 
Bibiana,  in  her  turn,  was  obliged  to  report  to  the 
police  the  name  of  the  stranger  whom  she  received 
into  her  lodgings.     All  these  formalities  served  the 
double  purpose  of  giving  the  police  information  and 
bringing  a  good  deal  of  money  into  the  public  purse. 
To  the  traveller  in  Spain  his  passport  is  a  constant 
subject  of  disquiet.     If  he  stop  at  a  pueblo  to  get  a 
puchero  and  feed  his  mule,  a  starveling  police  officer 
is  at  his  elbow,  who  must  have  a  real  for  carrying  his 
passport  to  the  village  alcalde.     It  is  also  necessary, 
when  he  halts  for  the  night,  to  have  an  endorsement 
made  upon  it  by  the  magistrate  of  the  place,  or  some- 
times, if  it  be  at  a  solitary  inn,  this  duty  is  performed 
with  much  ado,  and  in  very  crabbed  characters,  by 
the  landlord.     A  passport,  after  a  few  months'  travel- 
ling in  Spain,  is  thus  swollen  to  a  document  of  as 
portentous  length  as  a  bill  in  chancery,  and  covered 
with  quaint  signatures,  each  with  a  complicated 
rubrica  or  flourish  at  the  tail  of  it.     This  rubrica  is 
a  universal  thing  in  Spanish  signatures ;  not  only 
among  the  judges,  subdelegados,  scriveners,  and  th*» 


180  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

like,  but  also  among  private  individuals.  It  consists 
of  certain  twists  and  quirls  of  the  pen  twined 
together  at  the  caprice  of  the  writer,  like  the  snakes 
on  a  Medusa ;  they  set  imitation  at  defiance,  and 
would  puzzle  the  Wicked  One  to  find  out  where  they 
begin  or  end.  The  reader  may  remember  that  when 
the  money-loving  Sancho  Panza  was  getting  from  his 
master  an  order  for  the  three  asses,  the  promised 
reward  of  his  fidelity,  he  asked  Don  Quixote  to  sign 
the  document.  "  There  is  no  need  of  signing  it," 
said  the  knight,  "  but  only  to  put  my  flourish,  which 
is  the  same  as  signing,  and  would  be  good,  not  for 
three  asses  only,  but  for  three  hundred."  I  know 
not  whether  the  rubrica  was  really  sufficient  in  the 
time  of  Don  Quixote,  as  was  once  a  seal  to  a  deed 
in  the  early  days  of  English  barbarism ;  but  certain 
it  is,  that  custom  has  given  it  a  certain  importance 
in  Spanish  eyes,  so  that  a  signature  without  a  flourish 
would  look  as  odd  as  a  cat  without  a  tail.  It  has 
also  long  been,  and  among  old-fashioned  people  still 
is,  the  custom  to  put  a  cross  at  the  top  of  a  letter. 
It  is  a  Christian  usage  of  very  ancient  date ;  and  hence 
the  common  saying  when  one  wishes  to  express 
that  he  has  read  a  document  or  book  through  :  "  Yo 


DIFFICULTIES    OF    DINING.  181 

lo  he  leido  desde  la  cruz,  hasta  la  fecha."  Those 
pious  fellows,  the  escribanos  or  notaries,  generally 
put  a  cross  over  their  signatures,  and  sometimes,  if 
extra-religious,  the  letters  J.  M.  J. :  meaning  Jesus, 
Mary,  and  Joseph. 

Bibiana,  besides  supplying  me  with  lodgings,  also 
gave  me  a  morning  meal  of  chocolate  and  a  roll  of 
bread,  with  a  supplementary  egg  or  omelet.  The 
more  serious  affair  of  dining  at  first  cost  me  some 
inconvenience ;  for  though  there  are  houses  in 
Madrid  somewhat  in  the  fashion  of  the  French 
restaurants,  the  cooking  is  detestable,  and  the  whole 
system  a  century  behind  the  elegance  of  Paris. 
After  various  voyages  of  discovery  on  this  moment- 
ous errand,  I  at  last  found  a  mesa  redonda,  or  ordi- 
nary, in  the  street  of  the  Gentleman  of  Grace,  where 
one  might  make  a  very  comfortable  meal  at  the  rea- 
sonable charge  of  a  dollar  a  day.  The  host  was  a 
tun-bellied  little  Frenchman,  with  a  gay,  sunny  coun- 
tenance, and  whose  good  condition  augured  favour- 
ably of  the  cheer  of  his  house.  The  guests  whom 
I  found  there  were  a  motley  collection  of  people 
from  all  nations,  and  were,  almost  without  exception, 
merchants  or  commercial  agents.  Among  all  the 
16 


182  SCENES    IN   SPAIN. 

people  I  met  there  during  my  residence  at  Madrid, 
I  remember  but  one  besides  myself  who  had  come 
to  Spain  as  a  mere  traveller ;  a  circumstance  which 
strongly  illustrates  how  much  Spain,  one  of  the  most 
attractive  countries  in  Europe,  is  neglected  by 
tourists. 

As  these  people  all  had  their  correspondents 
abroad,  one  could  gather  at  table  the  daily  news 
from  the  rest  of  Europe;  a  subject  which  the  Gazette 
of  Madrid  treats  very  sparingly,  and  after  its  own 
fashion.  Politics,  however,  are  a  prescribed  topic  of 
conversation  among  prudent  people  in  Spain  ;  and 
hence,  though  we  were  all  foreigners,  the  on  dits  of 
the  day  were  given  without  much  comment.  As 
was  natural  with  travellers,  the  conversation  more 
frequently  fell  on  the  sights  we  had  seen  and  the 
adventures  we  had  met  with  in  foreign  lands.  Spain 
came  in  for  a  good  share  in  these  recitals,  and  many 
a  one  had  his  tale  to  tell  of  "  rateros  y  salteadores," 
rat-catchers,  and  jumpers. 

I  remember  a  robber  story,  related  by  one  of  our 
guests  with  a  good  humour  which  spoke  well  for 
his  philosophy.  He  had  just  arrived  in  the  diligence 
from  Seville,  which  was  attacked  near  Carmona  by 


ROBBER    STORY.  183 

a  band  of  about  sixteen  men.  They  wore  the  gay 
costume  of  Andalusia,  were  stoutly  armed  with  pis- 
tols, knives,  and  carabines,  and  rode  good  horses  as 
might  be  expected  ;  for  why  should  a  man  take  a  bad 
one  who  makes  his  own  choice,  scot-free  ?  Our  guest 
lost,  like  the  rest,  all  his  money  and  baggage,  even 
to  some  of  the  clothes  he  had  upon  him,  such  as  a 
flashy  pair  of  suspenders  and  a  satin  vest,  fresh  from 
the  shops  of  Paris.  A  repeater,  which  he  also  de- 
livered, seemed  particularly  to  take  the  fancy  of  the 
chief  of  the  band.  He  begged  the  unlucky  owner 
to  give  him  a  lesson  in  making  it  strike ;  and  so  well 
satisfied  was  he  with  the  Frenchman's  civility,  that, 
as  he  deposited  the  watch  under  his  sash,  he  touched 
his  sombrero  with  respectful  gravity,  saying,  "Senor, 
me  parece  usted  muy  caballero," — "  Sir,  you  appear 
to  me  to  be  very  much  of  a  gentleman."  While  the 
robbery  was  going  on,  a  small  party  of  soldiers  were 
seen  approaching,  upon  which  the  bandits  very  com- 
posedly mounted  their  horses,  and  taking  the  reins  in 
their  teeth  so  as  to  leave  both  hands  to  manage  their 
carabines,  galloped  boldly  towards  the  enemy.  The 
soldiers  fired  a  few  shots,  and  then  took  to  their  heels. 
The  bandits,  thus  left  in  undisputed  possession  of  the 


184  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

field,  returned  to  complete  their  harvest,  and  then 
commending  the  passengers  to  God's  keeping,  rode 
leisurely  away. 

I  have  already  remarked  that  the  period  during 
which  I  was  rambling  through  Spain  was  one  of  a 
strong  though  smothered  political  excitement.  The 
revolution,  which  after  the  fierce  and  glorious  strug- 
gle of  the  Three  Days,  hurled  the  elder  branch  of  the 
Bourbons  from  the  throne,  while  it  startled  the  des- 
potic rulers  of  Europe,  had  roused  the  flagging  spi- 
rits of  their  oppressed  subjects.  The  unhappy  Libe- 
rals of  Spain,  whose  day-dreams  of  freedom  had 
fled  with  the  downfall  of  the  Constitution,  began  to 
cherish  again  those  hopes  which  had  before  so  bit- 
terly deceived  them.  Plots  were  formed ;  a  commu- 
nication was  established  between  those  who  had 
sought  an  asylum  in  foreign  countries  from  the 
wrath  of  the  Absolute  King,  and  their  long-lost 
friends,  who,  having  been  less  obnoxious,  had  been 
allowed  to  linger  on  the  soil  of  their  country.  This 
spirit  of  revolt,  which  they  had  so  long  fostered  in 
secret,  at  length  broke  out  into  overt  acts,  as  ill-con- 
certed in  their  plan  as  they  were  impotent  in  their 
execution.  Mina,  with  a  handful  of  partizans,  ap- 


REVOLUTIONARY    MOVEMENTS.  185 

peared  on  the  northern  frontier ;  Torrejos  hovered 
on  the  coast  of  the  Mediterranean  with  a  scanty 
band  of  desperate  adventurers ;  the  plot  of  a  rising 
was  formed  in  the  Isla  de  Leon :  in  short,  the  un- 
happy children  of  Liberalism,  in  various  parts  of 
Spain,  were  preparing  to  make  one  last  desperate 
effort  to  tear  off  their  manacles  and  burst  open  their 
prison  doors.  But  meanwhile,  the  jealous  eye  of  ty- 
ranny was  not  asleep  ;  it  watched  the  movements  of 
its  victims  with  the  keenness  of  a  long-cherished  dis- 
trust and  the  malice  of  anticipated  revenge.  When 
these  ill-laid  plots  of  the  Liberals  were  on  the  eve  of 
consummation,  the  government  drove  off  those  who 
threatened  the  frontier  from  without,  and  seized  their 
unhappy  associates  within.  The  dungeons  were 
filled,  and  the  hangman  had  a  teeming  harvest. 

The  execution  of  the  unhappy  Dona  Maria  at 
Granada  will  have  given  the  reader  an  idea  of  the 
way  in  which  the  Spanish  police  deal  with  even  the 
suspected  friends  of  free  principles.  Madrid  had 
also  received  several  wholesome  lessons  of  loyalty 
from  the  executioner,  and  another  victim  was  added 
to  the  list  while  I  was  there.  His  name  was  Don 
Jose  Maria  Torrecilla,  a  lieutenant-colonel  in  the 
16* 


186  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

Spanish  army,  and  in  the  prime  of  life,  being  about 
thirty-five  years  of  age.  I  believe  he  was  a  brother 
of  the  poor  fellow  whom  I  have  spoken  of  as  being 
shut  up  in  the  Carcel  Militar  at  Seville,  and  who 
was  executed  there  about  the  same  time.  On  this 
point,  however,  I  am  not  certain.  Don  Jose,  it 
seems,  had  been  implicated  in  some  constitutional 
plots  a  few  months  previous,  for  which  he  was  con- 
demned to  suffer  death  by  the  hands  of  the  common 
hangman  in  the  Place  of  Barley,  a  spot  which  wit- 
nessed the  execution  of  Riego  and  many  other  pa- 
triots. 

When  the  day  fixed  for  the  execution  of  this 
unfortunate  man  arrived,  I  was  reminded  of  the 
circumstance  by  hearing  beneath  the  balcony  the 
voice  of  a  brother  of  the  society  called  the  Paz  y 
Caridad,  who,  as  he  passed  along,  rang  a  bell  to  at- 
tract the  attention  of  the  people,  and  then  called 
out,  "  Para  bien  y  decir  misas  para  et  alma  de  aquel 
pobre  que  sacan  a  justiciar  ;  que  da  quien  puede,  por 
el  amor  de  Dios  ;" — "  For  pious  purposes,  and  to  say 
masses  for  the  soul  of  the  unhappy  man  who  is  to  be 
executed ;  let  him  who  can,  give  for  the  love  of 
God !"  A  cuarto  was  contributed  here  and  there 


PAZ    Y    CARIDAD.  187 

by  those  who  came  to  the  doors  and  balconies ;  and 
then  the  brother  of  charity  passed  on,  ringing  his 
bell  and  repeating  his  petition. 

From  what  I  could  learn  respecting  the  fraternity 
of  Paz  y  Caridad,  it  is  a  very  praiseworthy  institu- 
tion. Its  members  are  principally  private  indivi- 
duals, who  join  it  from  motives  of  religion  and 
benevolence,  and  its  objects  are  entirely  of  a  chari- 
table nature.  Thus,  if  a  man  be  drowned,  the 
brothers  of  this  order  take  the  body,  and  endeavour 
to  restore  it  to  life.  They  also  minister  to  the  wants 
of  criminals  condemned  to  death,  supplying  them 
with  food  and  other  comforts,  and  endeavouring  to 
console  their  last  hours.  On  days  of  execution 
some  of  the  members  go  about  the  streets  in  the  way 
I  have  described,  with  a  money-box  and  a  bell ; 
others  may  be  seen  stationed  in  various  parts  of  the 
town,  under  a  black  awning  with  drapery  of  the 
same  funereal  character,  having  the  arms  of  Spain 
embroidered  on  it  in  gold.  Here  they  sit  at  a  little 
table  with  a  crucifix  upon  it,  and  a  plate  to  receive 
the  contributions  of  the  charitable. 

The  Plaza  de  Cebada,  or  Place  of  Barley,  is,  as 
has  been  said,  the  scene  of  executions  at  Madrid. 


188  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

I  had  occasionally  visited  it  on  ordinary  days,  when 
I  found  it  filled  with  butchers  and  fat  market-wo- 
men, who  were  probably  as  worthy  specimens  of  the 
sex  as  those  of  the  Plaza  del  Carmen.  On  the 
morning  of  the  execution  of  Torrecilla,  I  found  the 
appearance  of  the  square  quite  changed  by  the  pre- 
parations for  the  approaching  tragedy.  In  the  cen- 
tre was  a  gallows,  consisting  of  two  strong  upright 
posts  and  a  crosspiece,  from  the  middle  of  which 
dangled  a  stout  rope  with  a  noose  at  the  end. 
Round  the  gallows  was  a  body  of  infantry  with 
fixed  bayonets,  and  without  them  a  company  of 
horsemen  with  drawn  sabres,  their  brass-covered 
helmets  glittering  in  the  sun.  A  crowd  of  dirty  ca- 
nalla  were  also  assembled  ;  some  lounging  about  the 
square,  and  others  sitting  on  the  pavement  beside 
the  walls  of  the  houses  to  shelter  themselves  from 
the  sun.  At  one  corner  of  the  Square  was  a  bro- 
ther of  the  Paz  y  Caridad,  seated  beneath  a]  black 
awning  of  the  fashion  just  described.  On  the  table 
before  him,  besides  the  image  of  the  crucified  Sa- 
viour and  the  silver  plate  to  receive  contributions, 
there  was  also  a  Franciscan  friar's  habit  of  coarse 
gray  cloth.  This  was  to  be  the  winding  sheet  of 
the  condemned. 


DEATH    OF    TORRECILLA.  189 

From  the  Plaza  de  Cebada  I  passed  along  the 
street  of  Toledo  which  leads  to  the  prison.  Here, 
too,  was  assembled  a  motley  crowd  of  people  of  the 
lower  orders,  many  of  them  women,  and  some  with 
infants  in  their  arms.  At  the  porch  of  a  sandal 
shop  I  observed  a  peasant  and  his  wife,  who,  being 
probably  wearied  by  a  long  walk  and  the  fatigue  of 
waiting,  were  refreshing  themselves  with  a  crust  of 
bread  and  a  draught  of  wine  from  a  leathern  bottle. 
The  crowd,  although  of  the  poorest  rabble,  was  or- 
derly in  its  demeanour ;  and  there  was  an  expres- 
sion of  anxious  solemnity  on  the  countenances  of 
many  by  which  one  could  have  seen  they  had  not 
been  brought  together  by  a  gala  or  holiday  exhibi- 
tion. The  silence  was  rarely  broken  but  by  the 
noisy  cries  of  the  water-carriers,  to  whom  a  crowd 
always  brings  a  harvest.  It  was  the  same  long- 
drawn  nasal  cry  of  "agua  !  agua  !"  that  one  hears  all 
day  long  in  the  streets  of  the  capital. 

As  I  approached  the  prison,  which  stands  in  the 
Square  of  the  Holy  Cross,  a  crowd  of  priests,  clad  in 
black  vestments,  and  preceded  by  one  who  bore 
a  crucifix,  crossed  the  Plaza  and  entered  the  prison. 
As  they  went  by  every  one  uncovered  his  head,  and 


190  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

the  more  devout  knelt  upon  the  ground.  Soon  after 
the  bell  began  to  toll  with  a  slow  and  prolonged 
note  from  the  tower  of  the  Church  of  Santa  Cruz. 
At  this  signal  a  strong  body  of  infantry  and  horse 
formed  at  the  porch  of  the  prison.  Torrecilla  was 
then  brought  forth  and  seated  upon  an  ass,  his 
hands  being  bound.  A  friar  in  a  coarse  woollen  habit, 
with  a  shaven  crown  and  a  girdle  of  rope  round  his 
waist,  kept  constantly  beside  him.  In  his  hand  he 
bore  a  crucifix,  which  he  held  before  the  unhappy 
man  as  if  entreating  him  to  look  to  the  Saviour  for 
support  in  that  trying  hour.  Whether  sustained  by 
this  religious  confidence  or  by  the  reflection,  that  he 
was  perishing  in  a  patriotic  cause,  he  bore  himself 
with  great  firmness ;  sitting  erect  on  the  ass,  [and 
even  striking  it  in  the  flank  with  his  heel  to  hasten 
its  steps.  As  they  descended  the  street  of  Toledo 
towards  the  place  of  execution,  he  was  soon  hidden 
from  my  sight  by  the  cavalry  that  surrounded  him. 
I  could  not  bring  myself  to  behold  the  execution, 
and  returned  sadly  homeward,  bitterly  execrating 
the  odious  oppression  which  makes  a  desert  of  Spain 
and  slaves  of  her  children  ;  which  stigmatises  ge- 
nerosity as  a  crime ;  singling  out  the  magnani- 


SEQ.UEL    OF    AN    EXECUTION.  191 

mous  and  the  free-hearted  for  imprisonment  and 
persecution,  and  dooming  the  patriot  to  die  like  a 
felon  on  the  gallows. 

About  sun-down  I  returned  to  the  Plaza  de  Ce- 
bada,  and  found  the  gallows  still  standing ;  the  dead 
body  was  hanging  from  it,  the  neck  greatly  elongated, 
the  murderous  rope  having  nearly  buried  itself  in 
the  flesh  by  the  tightness  with  which  it  was  drawn. 
The  hands  were  black  with  the  stagnation  of  the 
blood,  and  all  the  features  of  the  face  dreadfully  dis- 
torted. From  the  neck  hung  a  little  picture  of  the 
Virgin,  and  on  the  breast  was  fastened  a  large  paper, 
upon  which  was  written  in  conspicuous  characters 
"  For  Traidor."  There  were  many  people  collected 
in  the  Plaza  round  the  gallows,  who  were  prevent- 
ed from  approaching  it  too  closely  by  three  or  four 
soldiers  with  fixed  bayonets.  The  mob,  as  in  the 
morning,  was  almost  entirely  composed  of  ill-dressed 
and  vile  canalla ;  such  a  mob  as  one  only  sees  in 
Spain.  Some  of  them  stood  looking  silently  and 
seriously  at  the  dead  body,  while  a  few  others  in- 
dulged in  a  merriment  very  foreign  to  the  occasion. 
Among  the  latter  were  some  Gallego  porters,  who 
were  cracking  their  coarse  jokes  and  thumping  each 


192  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

other  with  the  ropes  with  which  they  carry  their 
burdens ;  while    two   others  of   their    companions 
were  engaged  in  a  graver  occupation,  one  shaving 
the  other  who  was  seated  on  a  water  cask ;  for  these 
poor  fellows  generally  get  shaved  in  the  street,  either 
by  each  other  or  by  itinerant  barbers,  who  go  about 
with  soap,  razor,  and  copper  basin.     There  were, 
besides,  soldiers  off  duty,  who   were  smoking  in 
groups,  and  apparently  in  a  very  good  humour ;  and 
old  women  squatting   on  the  ground  among  the 
crowd,  with  baskets  of  fried  fish,  fruit,  or  loaves  of 
bread,  which  they  offered  to  the  hungry  with  the 
usual  harsh,  nasal  cries.     A  little  farther  off  were 
the  stalls  of  the  butchers  and  the  sellers  of  bread 
and  pork,  interspersed  with  crowds  of  huckster-wo- 
men; with  vegetables  of  all  sorts  piled  in  heaps  on 
the  ground.     These  were  higgling  with  their  cus- 
tomers, wrangling  with  each  other,  or  dealing  out 
rough  jokes  with  much  noise  and  bustle,  and  other- 
wise showing  as  perfect  an  insensibility  to  the  re- 
cent tragedy  as  if  the  dead  man  were  hanging  a 
hundred  miles  off. 

Among  the  crowd  around  the  gallows  were  many 
blind  men ;  some  calling  out  ballads  and  accounts  of 


BALLAD    SINGERS.  193 

miracles,  which  they  had  for  sale ;  others  reciting: 
devotional  hymns,  two  standing  together,  leaning  on 
their  long  staffs  and  relieving  each  other  alternately 
from  couplet  to  couplet.  Most  of  these  blind  men 
were  very  well  dressed  for  Spanish  beggars,  except 
one  young  man,  whose  clothing  consisted  of  nothing 
more  than  a  tattered  pair  of  breeches,  which  seemed 
rather  intended  to  excuse  than  to  cover  his  naked- 
ness, and  a  dirty  piece  of  blanket  drawn  over  his 
shoulder.  He  appeared  to  have  lost  his  eyes  by 
some  loathsome  disease,  which  had  attacked  other 
parts  of  his  face  ;  and  he  was  altogether  so  disgusting 
an  object,  that  every  one  shrank  from  him  as  he 
groped  his  way  along. 

The  most  accomplished  in  his  profession  of  all 
these  unfortunate  blind  men  was  an  old  fellow,  who 

moved  about  with  much  industry  among  the  crowd, 

0 
vociferating,  with  great  energy  and  with  untiring 

lungs,  "  At  two  cuartos,  a  paper  which  has  been 
lately  published ;  the  Condemned  Damsel,  in  which 
is  described  the  rigorous  punishment  which  God  in- 
flicted on  the  said  unhappy  girl ;  who,  for  disobe- 
dience to  her  parents  was  cut  into  bits  by  the  devil ; 
with  the  rest  which  the  curious  reader  will  see." 

17 


194  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

Then  changing  his  tone  into  one  more  devout, 
"  When  will  pass  by  a  devout  person,  who  will  or- 
der me  to  say  a  pious  prayer  for  the  ease  and  rest 
of  this  poor  brother,  the  guilty  defunct  ?"  Presently 
hearing  another  blind  man  near  him,  he  approach- 
ed the  place  from  which  the  voice  came,  and  greet- 
ing his  companion,  said,  "  Antonio,  my  old  boy,  how 
goes  the  trade  ?"  "  Bad,"  replied  the  other  ;  "  to-day 
I  have  not  sold  enough  to  buy  a  two-penny  loaf.  Wilt 
thou  pay  for  a  cup  of  wine  ?  let  us  go  to  the  tavern 
of  Juanito  ;  for  this  afternoon  the  people  have  no  de- 
votion ;  thus  will  the  devil  carry  them  off."  For 
the  sake  of  encouraging  the  discontented  "  ciego,"  I 
put  the  requisite  number  of  copper  pieces  in  his 
hand,  and  selected  from  his  bundle  one  of  the  mi- 
racles, and  also  "  The  new  relation  and  veracious 

romance,  in  which  is  set  forth  the  account  of  the 

% 

doings  and  atrocities  executed  by  six  Jews  and  five 
Jewesses  in  the  town  of  Llerena ;  sacrificing  four 
infant  martyrs,  two  friars,  and  one  woman ;"  embel- 
lished also  with  a  wood-cut  frontispiece,  exhibiting 
two  of  the  calumniated  Jews,  dressed  out  in  cloak 
and  doublet,  after  the  old  Spanish  fashion. 

After  a  little  while  some  shabby-looking  brothers 


FUNERAL    OF    THE    EXECUTED.  195 

of  the  Paz  y  Caridad  arrived.  The  rope  was  loosen- 
ed above,  and  the  dead  man  was  let  down  on  a  table 
put  beneath  the  gallows.  Then  they  stripped  off  the 
stockings  and  slippers  and  untied  the  ropes  with 
which  the  legs  and  hands  had  been  bound.  They 
also  put  on  the  corpse  a  coarse,  gray  gown,  like  a 
Franciscan  friar's  habit,  turning  the  dead  man  over 
on  his  face,  in  order  to  sew  it  behind.  This  done, 
the  body  was  put  into  a  sort  of  coffin  uncovered  at 
the  top,  which  was  placed  upon  the  table  with  a 
large  lantern  at  either  side.  These  arrangements 
had  not  been  long  made,  when  the  churches  began 
to  toll  for  the  "  oraciones,"  or  evening  devotions ;  and 
presently  a  long  procession,  with  lanterns  and  can- 
dles, filed  into  the  square  ;  its  appearance  having 
been  previously  announced  by  the  tinkling  of  a 
small  bell.  All  the  crowd  at  once  took  off  their  hats, 
and  some  muttered  a  prayer.  The  procession  was 
composed  of  a  long,  double  line  of  men,  women,  and 
children,  most  of  them  very  dirty,  ill-dressed  people. 
Each  of  them  carried  either  a  paper  lantern  sup- 
ported on  the  end  of  a  stick,  or  a  candle  held  in  the 
hand,  which  was  large  or  small  according  to  the  de- 
votion or  frugality  of  the  party  ;  some  were  as  thick 


196  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

and  as  long  as  bludgeons,  and  others  no  bigger  than 
a  quill.  Of  the  latter  sort,  as  being  better  propor- 
tioned to  their  size,  were  those  carried  by  sundry 
little  urchins,  the  worthy  representatives  of  that  well- 
known  personage  Dickie  Dont.  Many  of  these 
devotees,  as  they  marched  along  with  very  solemn 
faces,  busied  themselves  with  catching  the  grease  as 
it  fell  from  the  candles  by  holding  the  hand  under- 
neath ;  an  exhibition  of  economy  which  produced  a 
very  odd  eifect.  In  the  rear  of  the  light-bearers 
came  a  priest  in  his  richly  embroidered  robes,  bear- 
ing the  emblem  of  the  faith  upon  the  breast  of  his 
garment;  with  him  were  several  other  religious 
functionaries,  whose  costly  vestments  formed  a 
strange  contrast  with  the  squalidness  of  the  crowd. 

When  they  came  under  the  gallows,  they  said  a 
short  prayer;  after  which  the  dead  man  and  his 
coffin  were  lifted  upon  the  shoulders  of  half  a  dozen 
men,  who  got  rid  of  the  incumbrance  of  their  hats 
by  putting  them  on  the  body.  Then  the  whole 
procession  moved  off,  the  priests  and  coffin  follow- 
ing in  the  rear,  and  the  way  being  cleared  by  sol- 
diers. Many  men,  women  and  children  joined  the 
line  as  it  passed  along,  lighting  their  candles, 


FUNERAL    OP    THE    EXECUTED.  197 

lanterns,  and  tapers  by  those  of  the  others ;  and  thus 
the  unfortunate  revolutionist  was  carried  to  his 
grave.  The  reason  of  this  procession  is  found  in 
the  seven  years'  indulgence  granted  by  Leo  X.  to 
all  those  who  shall  console  condemned  persons  in 
their  last  moments,  and  accompany  them  to  the 
grave  after  execution.  A  board,  with  a  long  list  of 
indulgences  granted  by  various  pontiffs  to  the 
brothers  of  our  Lady  of  Charity,  and  our  Lady  of 
Peace,  and  to  other  faithful  Christians,  is  hung  up 
always  on  days  of  execution  at  the  door  of  the 
church  of  Santa  Cruz,  near  the  prison,  containing  al- 
so at  the  bottom  this  significant  note :  "  Han  de  tenet 
la  bula  de  la  Santa  Cruzada ;"  that  is  to  say,  that  in 
order  to  reap  the  advantage  of  these  indulgences,  it 
is  necessary  to  have  the  Bull  of  the  Holy  Crusade. 
Now  this  Bull  costs  the  devout  applicant  three  reals, 
or  fifteen  cents,  and  it  is  a  very  great  source  of  re- 
venue. This  Bull  has  the  virtue  not  only  of  put- 
ting the  holder  on  the  high-road  to  Heaven,  but  also 
fortifies  his  stomach  on  the  journey,  by  enabling  him 
to  eat  eggs  and  butter  on  certain  seasons,  on  which, 
without  this  document,  he  would  have  to  restrain 
himself  entirely  to  vegetable  fare. 
17* 


198  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

As  to  the  soundness  of  the  principles  of  the 
Catholic  Church  let  theologians  differ ;  they  must  at 
least  agree  on  one  point ;  the  singularly  imposing 
character  of  her  ceremonies.  It  may  be  said  that 
the  educated  man,  or  rather  the  educated  Protestant, 
may  find  many  of  its  rites  an  idle  mummery  ;  but 
let  it  be  remembered  that  the  minds  of  the  vulgar 
are  ever  taken  by  outward  show,  and  as  these  form 
every  where  so  preponderating  a  class,  it  is  no  won- 
der that  it  should  go  far  towards  inspiring  that  un- 
qualified and  exclusive  attachment  which  Catholics 
feel  to  their  faith.  Let  the  Protestant  enter  any 
church  in  a  Catholic  country,  be  it  the  proud  temple 
of  St.  Peter  or  the  obscure  sanctuary  of  a  starveling 
Spanish  village,  he  will  see  the  awe-inspiring  power 
of  that  ritual  displayed  in  the  solemn  and  contrite 
demeanour  of  every  individual  who  kneels  humbly 
and  silently  before  the  altar. 

Another  circumstance  which  equally  attracts  the 
attention  of  the  Protestant  traveller,  is,  if  I  may  so 
say,  the  ubiquity  of  religion  in  Catholic  countries. 
It  meets  his  eye  not  only  in  the  churches  and  con- 
vents, but  at  every  step  in  the  public  streets.  Some- 
times it  is  a  simple  cross  nailed  over  the  porch  to 


RELIGION    IN    SPAIN.  199 

bless  the  house  and  keep  away  the  devil ;  sometimes 
a  coarse  picture  on  the  wall  of  the  Holy  Mary,  with 
a  lamp  or  a  taper  flickering  before  it,  and  votive  offer- 
ings hung  around  it ;  sometimes  an  inscription,  in- 
voking the  Mother  of  God  :  "  Ave  Maria  purisima 
sin  pecado  concebida" — "Hail,  Mary  most  pure,  con- 
ceived without  sin."  Then  there  are  those  piously 
importunate  gentry,  the  beggars,  who  never  ask  a 
cuarto  but  for  the  Virgin's  sake,  nor  receive  one 
without  promising  she  will  pay  it  back  again. 
Moreover,  as  the  traveller  walks  the  streets  he  is 
ever  and  anon  reminded  of  the  approach  of  the  Host 
by  the  tinkling  of  a  bell,  when,  if  he  have  a  decent 
respect  for  the  prejudices  of  those  amongst  whom  he 
sojourns,  he  will,  like  them,  kneel  upon  the  pave- 
ment till  the  priest  that  bears  the  consecrated  symbol 
has  passed  by.  Thus  in  a  great  variety  of  ways  he 
who  travels  in  Spain  is  constantly  reminded  of  the 
pervading  and  universal  influence  of  religion  over 
the  minds  of  the  people. 

I  have  just  alluded  to  the  bearing  of  the  Host 
through  the  street.  This  is  a  spectacle  of  every  day 
occurrence ;  but  in  spite  of  its  frequency,  it  always 
inspired  me  with  a  certain  feeling  of  solemnity. 


200  SCENES    IN    SPAIN, 

h 

This  was  partly  owing  to  the  contagion  of  example ; 
for  every  one  kneels,  and  assumes  a  devotional  air 
when  these  processions  pass.  But  it  was  still  more 
inspired  by  the  consideration  that  some  one  was  on 
the  border  of  the  dark  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death, 
to  whom  in  his  last  hour  the  minister  of  God  was 
bearing  the  consoling  symbol  of  the  crucifixion.  It 
seems  to  me  there  is  something  more  solemn  in  this 
than  in  the  funeral  obsequies  which  are  to  follow  it ; 
just  as  one  looks  with  greater  interest  on  the  poor 
criminal  who  is  led  forth  pale  and  trembling  to  exe- 
cution, than  on  his  blackened  corse  after  he  has  paid 
the  stern  penalty  of  the  law. 

I  have  already  briefly  described  a  procession  of 
this  sort  at  Granada  ;  at  Madrid  one  sometimes  sees 
them  on  a  more  expensive  scale.  I  was  sitting  in 
my  room  one  evening  when  I  heard  the  sound  of 
trumpets  in  the  street.  Bibiana  presently  came  run- 
ning from  the  balcony  to  tell  me  that  "  Dios  estaba 
pasando,"  that  "God  was  passing  by."  I  was  at  first 
somewhat  startled  by  this  unexpected  intelligence ; 
but  a  moment's  reflection  suggested  that  my  little 
landlady  meant  the  Host,  which  among  Catholics  is 
considered  the  real  body  of  the  Saviour.  On  going 


PROCESSION    OF    THE    HOST.  201 

to  the  window  I  found  a  large  procession  of  private 
persons,  and  also  of  officers  in  full  dress,  who  bore 
tapers  in  their  hands,  and  were  accompanied  by  the 
customary  flanking  party  of  gleaners.  Between  the 
two  lines  of  light-bearers  was  a  small  band  of  musi- 
cians in  military  attire,  and  behind  them  an  old-fash- 
ioned coach  drawn  by  mules,  in  which  sat  a  priest 
in  his  rich  sacerdotal  robes,  glittering  with  embroid- 
ery of  gold.  Officers  on  either  side  of  the  vehicle 
held  the  handle  of  the  door  latch.  Thus  they  passed 
to  the  sound  of  solemn  music,  descending  the  street 
of  the  Gentleman  of  Grace  till  they  came  to  the  man- 
sion of  the  Marquis  of  Castelar,  to  whose  sister  the 
sacrament  was  to  be  given.  When  this  consolation 
had  been  administered  to  the  dying  lady,  they  return- 
ed, passing  up  the  same  street  to  the  church  of  Saint 
Louis.  The  number  of  lights  on  these  occasions  is 
proportioned  to  the  wealth  and  pride  of  the  sick  per- 
son's family  ;  for  it  is  considered  that  the  dignity  of 
the  house  is  involved  in  the  quantity  of  wax 
expended. 


202 


CHAP.   XIV. 

JOURNEY    TO   ZARAGOZA. 

AFTER  spending  two  months  at  Madrid,  I  started 
for  the  war-worn  old  town  of  Zaragoza,  so  renown- 
ed for  the  heroic  bravery  and  devoted  patriotism  of 
its  inhabitants.  It  was  a  dull,  stormy  morning  when 
I  bade  adieu  to  my  lodgings  in  the  street  of  the 
Gentleman  of  Grace.  I  felt,  indeed,  some  reluctance 
to  go,  as  I  looked  out  of  the  window  upon  the  rain 
which  was  falling  heavily,  and  then  at  the  bright 
eyes  of  my  Spanish  landlady.  But  my  trunk,  after 
all  the  ado  of  packing  and  cramming,  was  already  on 
the  shoulder  of  a  sturdy  Gallego ;  and  my  seat  was 
taken  in  the  morning's  diligence. 

There  was  no  rescource.  I  received  and  recipro- 
cated in  my  best  and  tenderest  Spanish  Bibiana's 
farewell  wishes  of  "  Feliz  viage,"  and  "  Dios  guarde 
a  usted"  —  "a  prosperous  voyage,  God  guard  you," 
and  then  hurried  away  through  the  rain  to  the  office 
of  the  diligence. 


ROBBERY  OF  AN  AMBASSADOR.       203 

The  dulness  of  the  day  brought  to  my  mind  cer- 
tain equally  dull  forebodings  of  bandits,  and  broken 
bones,  and  baggage  confiscated  by  the  lords  of  the 
highway,  those  bugbears  of  the  traveller  in  the  Pe- 
ninsula. These  agreeable  associations  were  assisted 
by  a  story  I  had  heard,  but  a  day  or  two  before,  of 
the  ill-luck  that  had  befallen  no  less  a  personage 
than  the  ambassador  from  the  haughty  potentate  of 
Russia.  It  seems  he  was  coming  from  France  to 
the  Spanish  court,  and  very  imprudently  travelled 
in  his  own  carriage ;  a  sure  method  to  attract  the 
attention  of  the  banditti.  Though  he  might  have 
made  some  sacrifice  of  dignity,  he  certainly  would 
have  consulted  better  the  safety  of  his  purse  and  per- 
son had  he  come  in  the  diligence,  or  even  have  been 
quietly  drawn  along  in  a  wagon  by  a  string  of  snail- 
paced  mules,  as  is  the  wont  of  travellers  in  this  ill- 
regulated  country.  At  a  league  or  two  from  the 
capital,  and,  as  it  were,  under  the  nose  of  the  mo- 
narch to  whose  court  he  was  going,  he  was  stopped 
and  plundered.  The  robbers  received  some  twenty 
ounces  in  gold,  besides  the  watches  and  jewelry  of 
the  ambassador  and  his  companions ;  but  as  they 
knew  he  was  an  ambassador,  they  did  not  think 


204  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

that  this  could  be  all  the  money  he  had  in  his  pos- 
session ;  they  accordingly  regaled  him  with  a  volley 
of  threats  and  insults,  clamouring  loudly  for  the 
rest  of  his  funds,  which  they  insisted  must  be  some- 
where concealed.  Not  contented  with  the  assevera- 
tions of  the  ill-starred  envoy,  they  fell  to  rummaging 
his  trunks  and  papers ;  and  having  at  last  satisfied 
themselves  that  there  was  no  more  money  to  be  had, 
they  dismissed  him  with  hard  words  and  harder 
blows,  as  a  salutary  lesson  that  an  ambassador  should 
travel  with  a  very  long  purse  where  there  was  a 
chance  of  meeting  with  highwaymen  capable,  like 
themselves,  of  appreciating  his  rank  and  importance. 
We  found  the  diligence  at  the  door  of  the  bureau 3 
and  the  postillion  had  just  finished  harnessing  and 
attaching  to  it  seven  long-eared  and  smoothly  shaven 
mules,  with  bells  round  their  necks  and  tawdry  or- 
naments of  red  and  white  cotton  dangling  from  their 
heads ;  together  with  a  single  horse,  equipped  with 
an  old-fashioned  saddle  of  Moorish  shape,  rising 
high  at  the  back  and  pummel,  and  having  wide 
stirrups  of  iron.  The  postillion  wore  breeches  of 
coarse  brown  cloth,  and  gaiters  of  black  leather  gar- 
nished with  white  bell-buttons,  a  red  sash  round  his 


DEPARTURE    FOR    ZARAGOZA.  205 

waist,  with  a  low-crowned  hat  with  a  broad  brim 
rolled  up  all  round  and  trimmed  with  beads  and 
velvet.  His  stout,  weather-proof  jacket  of  black 
sheepskin,  with  the  wool  worn  outwards,  was  fas- 
tened by  large  brass  clasps.  The  mayoral,  or  driver, 
was  arranging  the  baggage  on  the  top  of  the  dili- 
gence, to  which  conspicuous  height  he  ascended  by 
a  long  ladder.  His  dress  was  the  same  as  the 
postillion's,  except  that  he  wore  a  jacket  of  brown 
cloth,  with  the  collar  quaintly  adorned  with  alter- 
nate patches  of  white  and  red,  and  having  other 
parti-coloured  pieces  at  the  sides  and  elbows,  not  to 
mention  a  flaming  red  rose  embroidered  on  the  back. 
The  passengers  were  assembled  at  the  door  of  the 
diligence,  with  their  friends  who  had  come  to  take 
leave  of  them.  Among  them  was  an  officer  of  the 
army,  with  a  pair  of  mustaches  of  most  ferocious 
length.  He  seemed  as  imperative  and  consequential 
as  an  Ethiopian  emperor,  and  dealt  out  a  volley  of  or- 
ders to  the  mayoral  and  his  men  about  his  sword-case 
and  his  epaulet-box,  the  case  which  contained  his 
cocked  hat,  and  his  night-bag  and  portmanteau. 
There  was  also  a  buxom  maid  of  Zaragoza,  who  was 
crying,  and  in  a  very  downcast  humour,  which  I 
18 


206  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

knew  not  whether  to  attribute  to  her  regret  at 
taking  leave  of  her  mother  or  of  a  broad-shoul- 
dered lieutenant,  who  may  have  been  her  lover. 
I  might,  perhaps,  have  solved  the  problem  more 
satisfactorily,  had  we  not  been  suddenly  summon- 
ed by  the  loud  voice  of  the  mayoral,  who  sup- 
plied with  his  own  cries"  the  place  of  a  stage-horn. 
At  the  words  of  "  Vamos,  vamos,  caballeros  !"  each 
hurried  to  his  seat,  amidst  a  shower  of  pious  com- 
mendations by  his  friends  to  God's  guardianship ; 
the  mayoral  mounted  briskly  to  his  box,  the  pos- 
tillion bestrode  the  single  horse,  and  away  we  hur- 
ried at  a  gallop ;  the  rattling  of  the  wheels  being 
drowned  by  the  crazy  whooping  and  hallooing  of 
the  mayoral  and  zagal,  who  are  always  the  noisiest 
fellows  in  the  world. 

We  drove  rapidly  down  the  broad  street  of  Alcala 
and  across  the  Prado,  now  as  solitary  and  deserted 
as  it  is  gay  and  frequented  at  the  sunset  hour  of  the 
Paseo.  Before  the  barracks,  hard  by,  a  regiment  of 
troops  of  the  line  were  drawn  out  for  the  morning's 
muster.  To  defend  them  from  the  unmerciful  pelt- 
ing of  the  rain,  they  were  snugly  clad  in  gray 
capotes,  and  had  an  effective  and  soldier-like  ap- 


DEPARTURE    FOR   ZARAGOZA.  207 

pearance,  far  surpassing  the  ill-clad  and  slovenly 
troops  of  the  provinces.  Presently  we  passed  through 
the  beautiful  gate  of  Alcala,  built  by  Charles  III,  the 
only  worthy  monarch  this  hapless  country  has 
known  for  many  years ;  then  by  the  silent  amphi- 
theatre, where,  in  the  weekly  exhibition  of  the  bull- 
fight, that  cruel  but  exciting  spectacle,  the  Spaniard 
momentarily  forgets  the  poverty  of  which  he  is  too 
benighted  to  divine  the  source.  If  the  sufferings  and 
degradation  of  humanity,  under  any  circumstances, 
deserve  the  compassion  of  all  benevolent  minds,  how 
much  more  must  that  sympathy  be  excited  in  the 
case  of  a  generous  nation,  so  worthy  of  a  better  fate, 
yet  so  hopelessly  wedded  to  misfortune ;  for  where, 
but  in  the  changes  and  chances  of  a  far-distant  futu- 
rity can  we  look  for  any  amelioration  of  the  misery 
of  those  who  are  now  as  incapable  of  applying  the 
antidote  as  they  are  ignorant  of  the  cause  and  cha- 
racter of  their  disease  ? 

Once  without  the  walls,  we  were  immediately  in 
the  country ;  for  Madrid,  like  almost  all  Spanish  towns, 
has  no  suburbs  ;  a  circumstance  but  too  satisfacto- 
rily explained  by  the  miserable  state  of  the  police 
and  the  consequent  insecurity,  Scarcely  a  dwelling 


208  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

was  to  be  seen  to  cheer  this  deserted  scene.  "We 
had  passed,  in  a  few  minutes,  from  a  populous  city 
to  a  silent  wilderness.  Here  and  there  we  met 
groups  of  grave  peasants,  mounted  on  melancholy 
asses,  and  closely  wrapped  in  their  mud-coloured 
cloaks,  driving  before  them  trains  of  beasts,  laden 
with  skins  of  wine,  or  straw  panniers  filled  with 
vegetables. 

At  a  league  from  the  capital  we  entered  the  sad 
town  of  Torrejon.  The  houses  were  very  low,  and 
built  of  unhewn  stones,  roughly  covered  with  a  dirty 
plaster ;  which,  having  fallen  off  in  many  places,  gave 
them  a  ruinous  and  poverty-stricken  appearance ; 
most  of  them  had  a  wooden  cross  suspended  by  a 
chain  over  the  portal,  and  swinging  restlessly  in  the 
wind.  The  names  of  the  inns,  too,  seemed  to  show 
it  to  be  a  pious  pueblo ;  for  one  might  see  such 
signs  as  "  Parador  de  San  Antonio,"  or  "  Parador  nu- 
evo  de  Dios,  con  todas  conveniencias  para  carmage- 
ros,  pasageros,  y  arrieros,"  —  "  The  inn  of  Saint  An- 
thony, or  the  new  inn  of  God,  with  all  conve- 
niences for  cartmen,  passengers,  and  muleteers."  Just 
without  this  humble  village  stood  a  little  brick  her- 
mitage or  oratory,  containing  the  image  of  the  Vir- 


THE    INQUISITIVE    ALCALDE.  209 

gin,  and  having  a  stone  cross  planted  in  the  ground 
in  front  of  it.  Thither  the  devout  go  annually  to 
pray  during  the  season  of  Lent ;  and  if  they  con- 
sider the  sins  of  the  past  year  to  merit  an  unusual 
share  of  penitential  mortification,  they  walk  bare- 
footed. 

I  had  two  companions  in  the  berlina  of  the  dili- 
gence ;  one  was  an  empleado,  or  person  in  the  civil 
employ  of  the  government  at  Zaragoza,  and  the  other 
the  Alcalde  mayor  of  Guadalaxara.  The  latter  was 
a  thin,  shrivelled  little  man,  of  an  unprepossessing 
mien,  and  the  most  inquisitive  fellow  in  the  world. 
I  know  not  whether  this  inquisitiveness  was  natural 
with  him,  or  was  a  habit  acquired  in  his  official 
functions,  which,  of  course,  brought  him  into  contact 
with  all  the  rogues  and  scape-graces  of  Guadalaxara, 
and  demanded,  too,  his  constant  and  jealous  vigi- 
lance against  those  pests  of  legitimacy,  the  negros, 
or  liberals,  whom  all  loyal  officers  and  subjects  of 
Ferdinand  are  bound  to  hate  and  pursue  as  so  ma- 
ny highwaymen  and  assassins.  The  curious  Al- 
calde soon  discovered  a  marvellous  inclination  for 
prying  into  my  history  and  affairs.  "  Is  your  wor- 
ship a  merchant  ?"  (C  No,  Sefior."  "  Are  you  going 
18* 


210  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

to  Zaragoza  ?"  "  Probably."  "  Do  you  mean  to 
stay  long  there?"  "I  do  not  know."  "Is  your 
worship  a  militar?"  No,  Sefior."  "Are  you  a 
merchant  ?"  "  I  am  not."  "  Are  you  going  to  live 
at  Barcelona?"  "I  cannot  say."  "Are  you  an 
Englishman?"  "No." 

The  poor  Alcalde  was  quite  thrown  out  by  my 
mischievous  monosyllables,  and  seemed  to  think  me  a 
desperate  subject ;  for  he  took  a  hurried  pinch  of  snuff 
from  a  big  silver  box,  with  a  certain  baffled  dubious 
air,  and  turned  his  attack  upon  his  other  fellow-pas- 
senger, who  proved  a  more  pliable  witness.  These 
two  worthies  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour  had  let 
each  other  into  the  whole  history  of  their  family 
affairs.  Nay,  the  placeman  entertained  us  with  a 
very  long  and  melancholy  account  of  a  severe  in- 
firmity which  he  had  suffered  many  years  before, 
and  from  which,  with  God's  blessing,  he  had  at 
length  recovered,  after  having  taken,  according  to  a 
memorandum  kept  by  his  wife,  just  fifty-five  emetics 
and  eighty-two  purgatives ;  not  to  mention  syrups, 
ptisans,  and  leeching,  nor  the  misery  of  paying  away 
irrecoverably  so  many  good  ducats  to  the  apothecary 


REMINISCENCE    OP   CERVANTES.  211 

for  drugs,  to  the  barber  for  bleeding  him,  and  the 
doctor  for  feeling  his  pulse  and  looking  at  his 
tongue. 

At  a  few  miles  from  the  dull  village  of  Torrejon, 
we  came  in  sight  of  the  old-fashioned  spires  and  tur- 
rets of  Alcala.  It  wore  but  a  dull  and  dusty  as- 
pect ;  yet  I  could  not  but  feel  a  certain  interest  in 
passing  a  town  which  deserves  to  be  for  ever  re- 
membered as  the  birth-place  of  Cervantes,  that  rare 
genius,  whom  all  the  world  join  in  praising,  and 
whom  his  own  country  idolized  after  his  death, 
though  she  treated  him  during  his  life  with  a  step- 
mother's unkindness  and  neglect.  I  was  now  pass- 
ing the  birth-place  of  the  historian  of  Don  Quixote. 
The  day  before,  in  Madrid,  I  had  snatched  an  hour 
from  the  hurry  of  my  departure  to  visit  the  house  in 
which  he  died.  In  the  street  of  the  Lion,  at  the 
corner  of  the  street  of  the  Franks,  the  admirer  of 
the  poet,  the  soldier,  the  man  of  honour,  and  the 
biographer  of  the  immortal  knight  of  La  Mancha, 
may  see  the  room  where  he  lived  in  obscure  poverty ; 
where  he  received,  in  his  last  hour,  the  consolation 
of  that  religion  whose  principles  he  valued,  though 
he  sometimes  ridiculed  its  unworthy  perversions ;  and 


212  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

where  he  closed  his  unfortunate  but  honourable  life. 
I  could  not  trace  the  mortal  remains  of  genius  to 
their  last  resting-place,  for  the  grave  where  they  lie 
is  unknown  ;  it  has  only  been  ascertained  that  they 
are  interred  somewhere  in  the  convent  of  the  Trini- 
tarian nuns  in  Madrid,  without  a  stone  or  epitaph  to 
mark  the  spot. 

At  Guadalaxara,  formerly  a  very  flourishing  town, 
we  stopped  at  a  posada  to  get  a  starveling  din- 
ner. In  the  time  of  the  good  Charles  III.  this  place 
was  noted  for  the  fabric  of  cloths.  The  spacious 
edifice  in  which  they  were  made  assembled  daily 
within  its  walls  ten  thousand  artisans.  The  looms 
are  now  silent,  the  town  is  hurrying  to  decay,  and 
the  Royal  Fabric  of  Guadalaxara,  as  I  was  told  by 
the  innkeeper,  now  gives  employment  to  four  per- 
sons, whose  duty  it  is  to  keep  the  doors  and  win- 
dows closed,  and  shut  out  the  wind  and  weather. 
This  is  a  forcible,  but.  not  a  solitary  instance  of 
the  national  decline.  Does  not  the  traveller  see  it 
every  where  staring  him  in  the  face?  In  the  filth 
of  the  inn,  where  he  sits  down  on  a  three-legged 
stool  to  eat  a  dirty  meal  from  a  dirtier  dish,  and  lies 
down  to  sleep  in  a  cheerless  chamber  amid  swarms 


•  GUADALAXARA.  213 

of  bugs  and  fleas  ?  Does  he  not  see  it  written  in  me- 
lancholy characters  on  the  ruinous  mud-hovels  of 
the  pueblos  that  here  and  there  break  the  solitude 
of  his  journey?  in  the  deserted  plains  that  stretch 
for  miles  and  miles,  with  scarce  a  solitary  symptom 
of  habitation  and  culture  ;  and  in  the  squalid  attire, 
and  the  sad  countenances  of  an  oppressed  peasantry? 
As  soon  as  we  had  hastily  despatched  a  comfort- 
less meal,  we  were  summoned  by  the  mayoral  to  the 
diligence,  an  escape  from  the  filth  of  the  Posada, 
which  we  were  not,  however,  permitted  to  make  till 
we  had  paid  the  watchful  hostess,  who  stood  at  the 
doorway  with  a  leathern  purse,  a  sum  for  which, 
in  France,  we  should  have  had  an  alderman's  din- 
ner. As  we  entered  the  vehicle,  we  were  suppli- 
cated for  alms  by  a  gray-bearded  beggar,  dressed  in 
a  wild  garb  of  sheepskins,  with  the  ragged  fleece 
worn  outwards,  and  who  supported  his  trembling 
and  starved  form  with  a  long  staff.  There  was 
something  touching  in  the  old  man's  entreaty,  of 
"  Caballero  deme  usted  una  limosnita  por  el  amor 
de  Dios  y  Maria  Santisima  ?"  "  Cavalier,  will  your 
worship  give  me  a  little  alms  for  the  love  of  God 
and  the  Most  Holy  Mary  ?" 


214  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

t 

I  now  found  myself  alone  with  the  placeman  of 
Zaragoza  ;  for  that  inquisitive  dignitary,  the  Alcalde 
of  Guadalaxara,  left  us  there  with  the  customary 
compliments  and  good  wishes  for  our  prosperous 
journey.  My  companion,  who,  though  employed 
and  fed  by  Ferdinand,  was  a  thorough-bred  Liberal 
in  his  notions,  took  advantage  of  his  departure  to 
talk  on  subjects  which  a  Spaniard  seldom  broaches 
to  his  own  countrymen,  unless  he  knows  his  man. 
Our  conversation  fell  upon  the  priesthood.  "A 
good  life  of  it,"  said  he,  "  do  these  worthies  lead,  with 
the  fat  of  the  land  to  eat,  and  tight  roofs  to  shelter 
their  shaven  crowns,  warm  raiment  to  cover  them, 
and  fire  to  warm  them,  and  wine  to  make  them 
merry  withal ;  the  best  mules  to  ride,  and  the  pret- 
tiest women  to  flirt  with.  Good  heed  do  they  take 
to  gather  in  the  dismes ;  the  tenth  arroba  of  wheat, 
the  tenth  measure  of  garbanzos,  the  tenth  arroba 
of  oil,  and,  in  short,  the  tenth  of  all  the  poor  la- 
bourer has  gained  by  the  sweat  of  his  own  brow 
and  the  labour  of  his  own  hands.  For  these  holy 
men  of  the  black  cloak  and  long  sombrero  are 
too  much  occupied  with  the  pious  labours  of  mass 
and  confessional  to  take  a  part  in  the  ploughing, 


PHILIPPIC    AGAINST    ECCLESIASTICS.         215 

the  sowing,  and  the  reaping  of  the  crop ;  it  is  at 
the  gathering  into  the  garner  that  they  make  their 
ill-starred  appearance.  Then  comes  the  well-fed 
cure  to  receive  the  tenth  of  the  poor  peasant's 
harvest,  preaching  him,  of  course,  a  pious  sermon  on 
the  duty  of  exactness  in  paying*  God's  portion,  and 
enforcing  the  exhortation  by  recounting  the  marvel- 
lous event  that  befel,  in  such  or  such  a  village  ;  how 
Pedro's  crops  were  blasted  by  the  anger  of  the  Al- 
mighty, or  how  the  close-fisted  Antonio  was  carried 
off  by  devils,  body  and  soul,  because  he  had  cheated 
the  church." 

After  this  philippic  against  the  ecclesiastics,  and 
after  recounting  their  various  other  resources  besides 
the  disme  for  getting  the  people's  money,  he  branch- 
ed off  into  a  satire  against  the  general  corruption 
among  the  men  in  office  from  one  end  of  Spain  to 
the  other,  of  which,  indeed,  his  own  recent  visit  to 
the  capital  furnished  an  illustration.  It  seems  that 
by  a  royal  decree,  the  servants  of  the  government 
are  forbid  to  leave  their  respective  residences  to 
come  to  the  capital,  whither  they  were  wont  to  re- 
sort in  eager  swarms  in  quest  of  advancement  to 
the  neglect  of  their  official  duties.  Our  Zaragozian 


2L6  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

wanted,  for  some  reason  or  other,  to  go  to  Madrid. 
He  accordingly  obtained,  under  the  plea  of  ill-health, 
a  royal  order,  authorizing  him  to  go  to  certain  mi- 
neral baths  which  were  to  be  found  in  a  village  be- 
yond Madrid ;  to  get  to  them,  it  was  necessary  to 
pass  through  the  capital ;  when  he  reached  the  me- 
tropolis, he  did  not  find  his  ailment  sufficiently  press- 
ing to  require  him  to  accomplish  his  journey,  so  he 
housed  himself  quietly  there.  Meanwhile  it  was 
necessary  to  administer  an  opiate  to  the  Cerberus 
of  the  police.  An  ounce  of  gold  set  this  right,  and 
he  remained  without  molestation. 

At  ten  o'clock  at  night  we  halted  at  the  inn  of 
Saint  Anthony,  in[  the  village  of  Grajalejos.  The 
inn-keeper  and  his  wife,  the  kitchen-maid  and  the 
hostler,  with  old-fashioned  lamps  in  their  hands,  hur- 
ried to  the  door  to  receive  us.  We  had  arrived  out 
of  time  ;  partridge  and  puchero,  the  hare  and  boiled 
pulse,  had  been  waiting  for  hours  to  be  eaten  ;  and 
we  were  at  once  assailed  with  anxious  inquiries  if 
we  had  met  with  robbers,  or  if  any  other  harm  had 
befallen  us.  The  passengers  quieted  their  apprehen- 
sions on  this  score,  but  besought  the  sallow  ventera, 
if  she  had  any  regard  for  their  stomachs,  to  have 


JOURNEY    TO   ZARAGOZA.  217 

the  supper  forthcoming  with  all  convenient  speed. 
Meantime  we  mustered  in  the  kitchen  to  warm  our- 
selves by  a  crackling  fire  of  brush-wood  and  grape- 
vine sticks,  glad  to  escape  the  jolting  of  the  dili- 
gence and  the  cold  air  of  the  evening.  Supper  over, 
each  stole  a  half  hour  from  the  little  time  allotted 
for  sleep  to  smoke  his  paper  cigar,  after  which  we 
separated  with  mutual  commendations  to  God  and 
good  wishes  for  a  sound  repose.  This  fatigue  en- 
abled us  to  realize,  in  spite  of  the  interrupters  which 
gathered  about  and  sorely  beset  us. 

In  the  morning  at  peep  of  day,  the  mayoral 
roused  his  sleeping  charge  ;  and  after  we  had  taken, 
with  half-open  eyes,  the  customary  cup  of  chocolate, 
four  pair  of  mules  hurried  us  away  at  a  gallop. 
Our  postillion  was  one  of  the  oddest-looking  fellows 
in  the  world.  To  protect  himself  from  the  rain,  he 
had  drawn  over  his  other  clothes  a  pair  of  sheep- 
skin breeches,  with  the  long  wool  unshorn  and  worn 
outwards,  and  a  jacket  of  the  same  material,  of 
which  the  body  and  sleeve  were  white  and  the 
other  black.  Robinson  Crusoe  in  his  goat-skin  gar- 
ments could  not  have  cut  a  more  fantastic  figure. 
19 


218  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

This  sort  of  attire  is  much  used  by  travellers  and 
roadsters,  and  if  made  with  neatness  and  of  the 
skins  of  young  lambs,  is  not  an  ungraceful  dress. 
But  those  worn  by  the  poor  are  often  nothing  more 
than  a  couple  of  skins  from  some  shaggy  patriarchs 
of  the  herd,  rudely  fashioned,  with  a  hole  to  thrust 
the  head  through,  and  a  couple  of  bags  for  the  arms. 
Such  was  the  primitive  sort  of  garment  worn  by  our 
postillion,  who  looked,  in  the  obscure  twilight,  not 
unlike  a  white  bear  mounted  on  horseback. 

After  a  long  ride  through  a  hard  storm,  we  reach- 
ed the  miserable  venta  of  Esteras.  At  the  door  were 
assembled  the  people  of  the  inn,  and  a  group  of  poor 
peasants  hid  in  their  coarse  brown  cloaks  or  striped 
mantas,  and  having  their  feet  and  legs  wrapped  in 
brown  woollen  rags  secured  with  sandals  and  thongs 
of  hide.  Poor,  however,  as  they  were,  some  of  them 
had  contrived  to  obtain  that  favourite  luxury  of  the 
Spaniard,  the  paper  cigarillo.  Here  we  should 
have  found  a  dinner  prepared  :  but  the  venter  a,  it 
seemed,  had  not  expected  us.  Upon  this  the  ma- 
yoral fell  to  abusing  her  in  very  plain  Spanish,  giv- 
ing vent  to  a  volley  of  coarse  oaths,  which,  though 
the  low-born  Spaniard  has  them  ever  in  his  mouth, 


IMPROMPTU  BREAKFAST.          219 

and  considers  them,  in  short,  as  indispensable  parts 
of  speech,  would  sound  odd  and  ill  enough  to  En- 
glish ears  in  the  shape  of  a  translation.  The  ven- 
tera  on  her  part  was  not  to  be  brow-beaten ;  she 
gave  him  as  good  as  his  own,  raising  her  voice  to  its 
sharpest  key,  and  tossing  her  arms  about  in  the 
air  with  wonderful  vivacity. 

At  last  the  mayoral,  seeing  that  his  passengers  were 
but  little  edified  by  this  battle  of  hard  words,  which 
were  neither  victuals  nor  drink  to  their  hungry 
stomachs,  proposed  that  we  should  seek  something 
to  eat  in  the  neighbouring  pueblo  at  a  place  where 
the  diligence  had  formerly  stopped.  Here  we  found 
an  old  house,  or  rather  hovel,  where  a  sharp-fea- 
tured old  crone,  with  blood-shot  eyes  and  strag- 
gling gray  hair,  was  cooking  her  pot  of  rice,  cab- 
bage, and  garbanzos,  over  a  fire  of  grape-vine  sticks 
and  roots  of  bushes.  She  received  us  with  a  mix- 
ture of  ill-humour  at  the  trouble  she  was  to  have, 
and  of  satisfaction  at  the  anticipated  reals  our  unex- 
pected visit  brought  her.  Four  or  five  pigeons  were 
presently  beheaded,  which  the  passengers  assisted 
her  in  picking  as  they  gathered  round  the  kitchen 
fire  to  dry  themselves.  A  child  was  despatched  to  the 


220  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

neighbouring  shop  with  a  leathern  bottle  and  a  basket 
to  buy  wine  and  vegetables  ;  and,  in  short,  in  half 
an  hour  we  sat  down  to  a  meal,  which,  if  it  was  not 
fit  for  princes,  as  the  old  woman  boasted,  served 
at  least  to  quell  the  cravings  of  hunger.  The 
repast  was  served  on  a  deal  table,  which  did 
us  good  service  though  lame  of  a  leg.  A  horn 
spoon  was  provided  for  each  passenger,  and  a  single 
jack-knife  went  the  round  with  those  of  us  who  had 
none  of  our  own.  The  room  had  a  mud  floor,  was 
lighted  by  one  little  window,  not  of  glass  but  of 
oiled  parchment,  and  the  walls  were  garnished  with 
a  wooden  crucifix,  and  two  or  three  coarse  wood-cuts 
of  saints  and  virgins. 

The  storm  was  still  piping  away,  when  we  got 
again  into  the  diligence ;  and  the  road  had  become 
so  bad  from  the  excessive  rain,  that  the  mules  had 
much  ado  to  drag  us  along.  At  last,  as  we  were 
ascending  a  hill,  on  a  steep  crag  of  which  stood  an 
old  and  ruinous  castle  of  the  Moors  or  Goths,  my 
attention  was  suddenly  diverted  from  the  picturesque 
scenery  by  the  shouts,  whooping,  and  imprecations 
of  the  mayoral  and  zagal.  The  diligence  had  planted 
its  clumsy  wheels  so  deeply  in  the  mud  that  there  was 


INVOLUNTARY   HALT.  221 

no  budging  them.  In  vain  did  the  master  and  man 
administer  blows  to  the  poor  mules  without  mercy, 
now  cheering  them  with  encouraging  appellations, 
and  anon  denouncing  them  as  daughters  of  the  devil. 
In  vain  did  they  appeal  to  Maria  Santisima,  and  San 
Antonio  de  la  Vega,  and  the  eleven  thousand  virgins. 
Like  the  gods  of  Baal,  they  gave  no  heed  to  their 
complaints.  Here  then  we  stuck,  foundered  in  the 
mud,  for  several  hours,  till  the  empleado  of  Zaragoza, 
who  had  started  on  one  of  the  mules  in  search  of  the 
nearest  inn,  and  had  missed  his  way  in  the  darkness, 
at  last  arrived  with  a  reinforcement  of  five  beasts. 
With  this  assistance  the  unwilling  diligence  was 
dragged  from  its  stronghold  in  the  mire,  and  we 
resumed  our  journey. 

But  fresh  troubles  awaited  us  a  few  leagues  farther 
on ;  the  ill-starred  vehicle  again  stuck  fast,  and 
leaned  over  at  such  a  fearful  angle,  that  the  pas- 
sengers hurried  out  with  all  despatch,  like  rats 
from  a  falling  house.  A  sort  of  council  was  held 
on  the  open  heath ;  and,  as  usually  happens  in  all 
deliberative  bodies,  there  was  a  great  variety  of  opi- 
nions. Most  of  the  passengers  at  length  determined 
to  brave  the  storm  on  foot  as  far  as  the  next  inn. 
19* 


222  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

The  maid  of  Zaragoza,  and  her  protector,  the  fierce- 
whiskered  and  imperious  officer,  pitched  a  sort  of 
tent  on  the  dryest  spot  they  could  find  by  the  road- 
side with  their  cloaks  and  the  cushions  of  the  dili- 
gence. For  myself,  as  I  relished  neither  the  muddy 
walk  nor  encamping  in  the  open  air,  I  returned  to 
the  diligence,  determined  to  wait  with  resignation 
for  the  arrival  of  succour,  and  run  the  risk  of  an 
upset  as  the  better  of  the  sorry  alternatives.  After 
some  time  the  postillion,  who  had  been  sent  forward 
to  the  inn,  returned  with  the  intelligence,  that  by  the 
life  of  Santiago  the  Apostle,  he  could  get  no  assist- 
ance till  morning.  He  offered  me  his  mule  to  ride 
to  the  inn,  which  I  gladly  accepted ;  for  the  rain  had 
now  ceased,  and  the  truant  stars  were  peeping  out 
again  in  the  sky  through  the  drifting  clouds. 

A  half  hour  brought  me  to  the  venta  of  Huerta, 
a  large  stone  building,  newly  erected  by  the  monks 
of  the  neighbouring  and  wealthy  convent  of  Domi- 
nicans. Alighting  in  the  stable,  which,  as  usual  in 
Spanish  inns,  formed  a  part  of  the  house,  I  hurried 
away  to  the  kitchen  to  warm  my  feet  and  make  a  per- 
sonal representation  to  the  hostess  of  the  state  of 
my  stomach,  which,  after  a  fast  of  sixteen  hours, 


VENTA    OF    HUERTA.  223 

clamoured  loudly  for  consolation.  In  the  middle 
of  a  large  room  I  found  a  stone  platform  or  hearth, 
raised  a  few  inches  above  the  plaster  floor,  upon 
which  crackled  a  brisk  fire  of  brush-wood  and 
charcoal.  Over  it  depended  from  the  roof  a  large 
wooden  funnel,  such  as  one  may  see  in  miniature 
in  a  chemist's  laboratory ;  through  this  the  smoke 
curled  lazily  upward,  stopping  occasionally  to  puff 
in  the  faces  of  the  company  before  it  took  its  leave. 
On  the  hearth  were  arranged  various  pots,  pans,  and 
pipkins,  whose  comfortable  simmering  assured  us 
that  something  was  going  on  within.  Around  the 
fire  was  collected  a  motley  group  of  the  guests  and 
people  of  the  venta.  Here  were  some  of  our  way- 
worn and  drowsy  passengers,  who  were  taking  cho- 
colate out  of  little  cups,  into  which  they  dipped  thin 
slices  of  bread.  There  were  also  two  ragged  soldiers 
of  the  line,  with  their  corporal,  whose  rank  was  dis- 
tinguished by  his  cotton  epaulet.  A  crust  of  bread 
and  an  onion^was  the  frugal  fare  which  they  washed 
down  with  some  wine.  Beside  them  sat  a  postillion, 
with  his  gay  jacket  and  breeches  well  splashed  with 
mud,  a  cosario  or  wagoner  in  an  equally  sorry 
plight,  and  a  number  of  Madrilenian  women,  who 


224  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

had  come  passengers  in  a  galera,  and  were  now  dis- 
puting in  high  words  with  the  ventera  about  the 
price  of  their  lodging  and  puchero.  As  for  the  ven- 
tero  or  inn-keeper,  who  made  a  conspicuous  figure 
in  this  odd  picture,  he  was  a  tall,  portly  old  fellow, 
with  a  lively  Spanish  eye,  and  features  which  denot- 
ed a  mixture  of  shrewdness  and  good-humour.  He 
was  dressed  in  a  coarse  velvet  jacket  and  breeches  5 
and  his  legs,  whose  comely  proportions  many  a  Ma- 
drid courtier  would  have  been  proud  to  display  at  a 
royal  kissing  of  hands,  were  comfortably  shrouded 
in  a  pair  of  blue  woollen  stockings.  This  worthy 
sat  warming  his  outstretched  hands  over  the  fire, 
leaving  his  wife  to  battle  with  the  thrifty  guests  of 
the  galera,  from  a  confidence,  doubtless,  in  her  supe- 
rior eloquence  on  such  occasions.  After  this  import- 
ant account  was  settled,  I  seized  the  opportunity  of 
acquainting  the  high-tempered  mistress  of  the  inn 
with  my  famished  condition,  and  requested,  as 
blandly  as  possible3  her  good  offices.  A  table  was 
presently  spread  for  me,  with  some  soup,  a  pair  of 
new-laid  eggs,  and  the  second  edition  of  a  joint  of 
meat,  put  forth  in  the  shape  of  a  stew,  with  garlic  and 
tomatoes  ;  a  preparation  known  in  Andalusia  by  the 


CONVENT    OF    ST.    BERNARD. 


225 


odd  but  appropriate  title  of  "  ropa  vieja,"  or  second- 
hand clothes. 

We  were  detained  nearly  the  livelong  day  at  the 
venta  of  Huerta  ;  and  I  was  glad  to  seek  an  hour's 
relief  from  the  weariness  of  doing  nothing  in  a  visit 
to  the  neighbouring  convent  of  the  monks  of  Saint 
Bernard.  This  convent  is  of  a  very  ancient  date, 
having  been  founded  by  one  of  the  Alonzos  in  1177. 
It  would  seem  to  have  been  under  the  patronage  of 
the  lordly  house  of  Medina  Celi ;  for  a  splendid  ban- 
ner, embroidered  in  silver,  with  the  arms  of  that  fa- 
mily, and  which  seemed  to  have  defied  the  dust  of 
many  years,  was  suspended  in  the  chapel  of  the  con- 
vent. Here,  too,  once  reposed  the  mortal  remains 
of  those  proud  grandees ;  but  they  have  been  since 
removed  to  the  village  of  Medina  Celi.  More  hal- 
lowed bones,  too,  moulder  within  its  walls :  a  little 
silver  box  was  shown  me,  containing  the  holy  relics 
of  some  forgotten  saint,  which  have  doubtless  work- 
ed in  their  time  a  due  share  of  miracles.  It  was 
not  an  hour  of  devotion  when  I  entered  the  chapel, 
and  I  found  it  quite  solitary,  with  the  exception  of 
an  old  woman,  who  knelt  before  the  altar  and  count- 
ed her  beads,  while  her  lips  moved  in  a  whispered 


226  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

Ave  Maria  or  Pater  Noster.  Her  soiled  and  tatter- 
ed garments  and  sorrowful  countenance  bespoke 
one  bowed  down  by  poverty  as  well  as  old  age  ;  and 
I  could  not  help  contrasting  the  wretchedness  of  her 
attire  with  the  gorgeous  and  costly  banner  that 
hung  near  the  shrine  at  which  she  knelt,  the  em- 
blem of  the  princely  fortunes  of  Medina  Celi. 

I  wandered  for  some  time  about  this  ancient  cha- 
pel, spelling  the  names  on  the  tombstones,  which 
paved  the  church,  those  ostentatiously  sorrowful  re- 
cords of  mortality,  and  figuring  to  myself  how 
they,  whose  forgotten  ashes  slumbered  quietly  be- 
neath, were  long  years  ago  cloistered  monks,  with 
cowl  and  rosary,  kneeling  at  these  same  altars,  and 
swelling  the  hoarse  anthem  of  the  choir  ;  or  haply 
steel-clad  warriors,  strong  in  the  battle,  and  bold  at 
the  tilting  match,  and  gay  at  the  wassail  board ;  or 
cunning  jurisconsults,  deeply  taught  in  the  pandects 
of  Justinian  and  the  edicts  of  Alonzo  the  Wise. 
As  I  was  amusing  myself  in  the  solitude  of  the  cha- 
pel with  these  dreamy  speculations,  a  young  monk 
came  along  the  aisle,  halting  at  the  several  shrines 
to  make  the  customary  genuflexions,  and  dipping 
his  finger  in  the  basin  of  holy  water  with  which  he 


CONVENT    OF    ST.    BERNARD.  227 

made  the  sign  of  the  cross.  He  had  scarcely  passed 
the  limits  of  boyhood,  and  was  hale  and  hearty,  with 
an  open  and  good-natured  expression  of  countenance, 
which  the  gloom  of  monastic  seclusion  had  not  yet 
clouded.  What  a  perversion  of  nature,  that  one  in 
the  vigour  and  hey-day  of  youth,  with  a  mind  ripe 
for  the  reception  of  liberal  knowledge,  and  a  frame 
strong  for  useful  labour,  and  a  heart  at  that  age 
when  it  is  warm  to  the  social  sympathies  and  sus- 
ceptible of  love,  that  instinctive  and  mysterious  feel- 
ing which  nature  never  gave  to  be  subdued  by 
fasting  and  vigils,  and  whipped  out  by  the  self-mor- 
tifying scourge  ;  what  a  perversion  of  nature,  I  say, 
that  such  a  one  should  be  consigned  to  the  gloom 
of  a  monastery,  to  waste  his  mind  in  the  unprofitable 
mysteries  of  schoolmen ;  his  bodily  vigour  in  the 
sluggish  confinement  of  his  cell ;  and  the  sympa- 
thies of  his  heart  in  the  dull  solitude  and  privations 
of  this  hopeless  seclusion. 

The  young  man  led  me  round  the  church,  point- 
ing out  to  me  such  things  as  he  deemed  worthy  of 
notice ;  among  the  rest,  the  huge  iron-bound  volumes 
which,  on  sheets  of  parchment  and  in  characters 
faded  by  time,  contained  the  music  of  the  choir. 


228 


SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 


From  these,  century  after  century,  the  monks  of 
San  Bernardo  had  chanted  their  matins  and  vespers ; 
and  to  this  agreeable  duty  my  hapless  cicerone  was 
doomed  for  the  rest  of  his  days.     From  thence  we 
passed  along  a  corridor,  which  was  hung  with  time- 
worn  paintings  representing  the  most  memorable 
actions  in  the  life  of  the  patron  saint ;  by  this  we 
were  conducted  to  the  convent  library,  where  a  num- 
ber of  monks,  young  and  old,  and  all  clad  in  the 
same  ungraceful  robes  of  white  flannel,  were  en- 
gaged in  reading.     I  found,  by  glancing  over  the 
titles,  that  most  of  the  books  were  antiquated  tomes 
on  holy  matters,  clad  in  ponderous  parchment  bind- 
ings, and  bearing  the  names  of  the  by-gone  fathers 
of  the   church.     I  noticed  one  long  line  of  more 
than  fifty  volumes,  whose  equal  height  bespoke  them 
the  children  of  one  prolific  brain,  and  which  were 
labelled  on  the  backs,  in  large  and  old-fashioned  cha- 
racters, "  Actos  de  los   Santos  ;"  a  fruitful  theme, 
which  fully  accounted  for  the  prolixity  of  the  work. 
A  few  shelves  contained  works  of  a  more  winning 
character ;  such  as  the  ^Eneid  of  Virgil,  the  fables 
of  La  Fontaine,  those  of  Yriarte,  and  various  edi- 
tions of  that  darling  of  the  Spaniard  and  story  of 


CONVENT    LIBRARY.  229 

all  stories,  the  Life  and  Actions  of  the  Ingenious 
Hidalgo,  Don  Quixote  de  la  Mancha.  One  com- 
partment, which  was  secured  by  a  lock  and  wire 
grating,  was  designated  by  the  ominous  label  of  "  Li- 
bros  Prohibidos."  It  seemed  to  me  that  it  would 
have  been  wiser  for  the  prior  of  the  convent  to  have 
put  this  forbidden  fruit  quite  out  of  the  way,  rather 
than  let  it  peep  thus  temptingly  through  the  win- 
dows of  the  bookcase,  within  sight  and  out  of 
reach,  like  the  fabled  water  to  the  thirsty  Tantalus, 
or  a  pastrycook's  window  to  the  penniless  clown, 
who  gazes  with  envious  eyes  from  the  street  upon 
the  dainties  he  may  look  at  but  may  not  taste. 

Among  the  monks  who  were  scattered  about  the 
library,  occupied  in  silent  study,  was  an  old  man, 
wasted  and  pale,  whose  hair  time  and  the  razor  had 
removed,  except  just  a  little  circle  of  gray  locks 
bleached  by  age.  He  was  attired  like  the  rest,  in  a 
robe  of  white  woollen,  decent  and  clean,  a  point  not 
always  regarded  by  monks  and  friars ;  a  girdle  of 
rope  was  bound  round  his  waist,  and  a  long  rosary 
hung  at  his  side.  A  pair  of  large,  old-fashioned,  iron 
spectacles  sat  astride  upon  the  end  of  his  nose,  with- 
out the  customary  support  of  side  pieces ;  and  on  his 
20 


230  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

knees  he  held  a  large  parchment  bound  volume  with 
illuminated  pages,  from  which  he  read  with  an  air 
of  profound  abstraction,  stopping  now  and  then  to 
refresh  himself  with  a  pinch  from  a  portly  snuff- 
box which  he  carried  in  the  folds  of  his  robe. 

In  the  afternoon  we  left  the  inn  of  Huerta  with  a 
stout  team  of  mules,  which,  at  one  point  of  the  road, 
the  mayoral  was  obliged  to  increase  to  the  number 
of  fifteen,  in  order  to  drag  the  diligence  through  the 
mud.  On  such  occasions  of  difficulty,  a  most  dis- 
cordant shouting  was  set  up  by  the  master  and  his 
man,  and  by  such  passing  peasants  as  lent  their  aid, 
in  which  the  names  of  the  mules  and  saints,  ex- 
pressions of  encouragement  and  wrathful  denuncia- 
tions, were  blended  in  one  wild  chorus  poured  forth 
with  the  volubility  of  an  Italian  buffo.  When  the 
twilight  rendered  it  still  more  difficult  to  contend 
with  the  holes  and  quagmires  of  the  road,  we  halted 
again  at  a  ruinous  village  called  Alhama,  whose  sor- 
ry inn  was  in  good  keeping  with  every  thing  around 
it.  At  the  door  our  persons,  as  we  descended  one  by 
one  from  the  vehicle,  were  scanned  by  the  inquisi- 
tive eyes  of  the  village  cure,  and  of  a  student  of  the- 
ology who  stood  at  his  elbow  ;  the  former  dressed  in 


VILLAGE    OF    ALHAMA.  231 

a  coarse  black  cassock,  cloak,  and  yard-long  sombre- 
ro, foxy  with  age ;  the  latter  wearing  a  capeless 
black  capa  and  an  untrimmed  cocked  hat.  They 
had  just  finished  the  pious  duty  of  administering 
ghostly  counsel  and  consolation  to  a  sick  man  at  the 
inn.  Besides  these  worthies  were  also  assembled  the 
"  maestro  de  nifios,"  or  village  schoolmaster,  and  a 
motley  group  of  stable  boys,  muleteers,  villagers,  and 
peasants,  who  surveyed  us  in  grave  silence  as  we 
passed.  The  miserable  and  decaying  pueblo  of  Al- 
hama  lies  in  a  narrow  valley,  shut  in  by  sharp  and 
towering  rocks  ;  on  the  summit  of  one  of  which 
stands  a  ruinous  tower  of  the  Goths  or  Moors,  mark- 
ed in  strong  relief  against  the  sky.  It  seemed  to 
frown  defiance  on  the  village  beneath,  and  on  all 
such  as  might  attempt  to  scale  the  rugged  cliff  on 
which  it  was  perched,  like  an  eagle  in  his  eyrie.  In 
distant  days  here  doubtless  dwelt  some  haughty 
high-born  count  or  baron,  the  feudal  lord  of  the 
poverty-stricken  Alhama.  Near  the  inn  was  the  old- 
fashioned  village  church,  whose  cracked  bells  were 
tolling,  with  discordant  chime,  the  evening  hour  of 
prayer.  Beside  it  stood  a  spacious  old  mansion, 
whose  broken  windows,  doors  unhinged,  and  a  gene- 


232  SCENES  IN 


ral  air  of  ruin  and  neglect,  betokened  the  deserted 
mansion  of  some  once  wealthy  family.  In  the  up- 
per story  of  this  solitary  dwelling  lived  the  village 
schoolmaster,  trespassing  on  the  rightful  domain  of 
the  owls  and  rats.  One  or  two  narrow,  filthy  streets, 
with  rows  of  low-roofed  hovels  of  stone,  plastered 
with  muddy  cement,  sheltered  the  poor  population 
of  this  humble  pueblo.  On  one  of  these  hovels  a 
rude  painting  of  the  Spanish  arms,  the  rampant 
lion  and  the  castle  denoted  a  royal  estanco,  where 
salt  and  tobacco,  those  cherished  objects  of  royal 
monopoly,  were  doled  out  at  extravagant  prices 
to  the  necessitous  Alhamians.  Some  of  the  people, 
ill-clad  and  dirty,  might  be  seen  sitting  on  the  door 
stone  of  their  hovels  ;  and  here  and  there,  in  the  ob- 
scurity of  the  ill-lighted  and  comfortless  chambers, 
a  group  of  penniless  worthies  might  be  discovered 
squatting  on  the  clay  floor,  playing  cards  on  an  out- 
spread cloak  or  blanket.  Occasionally  a  goatherd 
passed  the  inn,  bringing  home  his  long-bearded 
charge  from  cropping  the  herbage  of  the  neighbour- 
ing hills,  or  a  bare-legged  peasant,  with  half  a  score 
of  downcast  donkeys,  with  drooping  heads,  and  an 
air  as  disconsolate  as  John  Bunyan's  Man  of  De- 
spair in  the  iron  cage. 


,>; 

SUPPER    IN    ALHAMA.  233 


The  supper  which  the  hostess  served  us  was  not 
of  the  most  luxurious  sort,  as  might  have  been  ex- 
pected from  the  comfortless  appearance  of  the  inn 
and  village.     We  washed  it  down  with  the  red  wine 
of  the  country,  which  was  set  upon  the  uncovered 
board  in  a  curious  sort  of  vessel,  much  used  in  the 
eastern  provinces  of  Spain.     It  was  a  glass  decan- 
ter, with  a  capacious  and  tun-bellied  body,  from  the 
bottom  of  which  rose  a  tapering  tube,  like  the  spout 
of  a  tea-pot,  but  longer,  and  smaller  at  the  aperture. 
The  person  who  drinks  grasps  the  decanter  by  the 
neck,  and  inclining  it  a  little,  a  jet  of  wine  is  emitted 
from  the  spout,  which  he  directs  into  his  open  mouth. 
It  seems  to  be  a  matter  of  rivalry  in  the  use  of  this 
odd  drinking  vessel  to  hold  the  bottle  as  high  as 
possible  above  the  head,  and  catch  the  stream  as  far 
as  may  be  from  its  source ;  a  difficult  operation,  in 
which    the  inexperienced    generally  distribute   as 
much  of  the  liquor  over  their  faces  as  into  the  aper- 
ture yawning  to  receive  it.     It  is  a  matter,  too,  which 
requires  schooling  to  swallow  the  wine  while  it  con- 
tinues pouring  into  the  mouth ;  and  in  truth,  it  so 
perplexed  me,  that  after  scattering  the  unwelcome 
beverage  over  my  eyes  and  nose,  and  finding  that 

20* 


234  SCENES    IN   SPAIN. 

even  when  with  a  surer  aim  I  got  it  safely  dis- 
charged into  my  mouth,  it  would  not  run  down  my 
throat,  I  was  fain  to  call  for  a  more  familiar  drink- 
ing vessel,  to  the  no  small  amusement  of  my  com- 
panions and  the  black-haired  and  blowsy  hostess. 

When  our  repast  was  finished,  the  hostess,  with 
an  old-fashioned  iron  lamp  in  her  hand,  conducted 
me  to  the  comfortless  chamber  where  I  was  to  pass 
the  night.  To  get  to  it  we  went  through  a  narrow 
passage,  in  which  were  stretched  out  the  sleeping 
forms  of  several  muleteers  and  peasants,  with  bun- 
dles of  straw,  or  the  furniture  of  their  mules  beneath 
their  heads,  and  their  striped  mantas  spread  over 
them.  As  we  threaded  our  way  among  the  ^legs  of 
the  sleepers,  and  noticed  the  soundness  of  their  re- 
pose in  spite  of  their  uncomfortable  accommodations, 
the  hostess  pointed  to  one  of  the  arrieros  with  her 
black  skinny  finger,  and  muttered  in  an  under-tone 
the  old  proverb,  "  No  hay  tal  cama  como  la  de  la  en- 
jalma."  "  There  is  no  bed  like  the  pack-saddle." 

The  apartment  into  which  she  ushered  me  had  a 
plaster  floor,  as  full  of  hills  and  hollows  as  the  Sierra 
Morena ;  and  in  the  corner  stood  a  flock  bed  with  a 
dingy  coverlet,  and  sheets  that  had  evidently  served 


DEVOTIONAL    PICTURE.  235 

the  turn  of  many  other  travellers.  A  bit  of  broken 
mirror  was  fastened  against  the  wall,  a  wooden 
cross  nailed  over  the  head  of  the  bed  to  keep 
away  the  devil,  a  little  glass  ^fount  of  [holy  water 
stood  on  a  table,  and  there  was  also  a  coarse  wood- 
cut purporting  to  be  the  representation  of  "  Our  La- 
dy of  Nieva,  especial  advocate  against  tempests  and 
hurricanes."  "  There  is,"  said  the  explanatory  para- 
graph beneath  the  figure  of  Virgin,  "  a  pious  tradi- 
tion, that  wherever  this  print  shall  be,  there  shall 
fall  no  thunderbolts  nor  lightning."  So  that  it 
seems  this  penny  print  was  a  convenient  and  econo- 
mical substitute  for  Dr.  Franklin's  conductor.  It 
also  contained  an  account  of  several  marvellous 
miracles  wrought  by  the  Virgin  of  Nieva  in  favour 
of  those  who  had  worn  about  them  this  representa- 
tion of  her,  together  with  the  assurance  "  That  the 
most  Illustrious  Bishop  of  Segovia  had  granted  forty 
days  of  indulgence  to  whatsoever  person  should 
pray  a  salve  before  this  Holy  Image,  though  he 
knew  not  how  to  read." 

In  an  apartment  which  communicated  with  mine 
by  an  opening  which  was  intended  to  receive  a  door, 
but  which  in  the  emergency  was  closed  only  by  a 


236  SCENES    IN   SPAIN. 

blanket  hung  up  against  it,  slept  the  fair  Zarago- 
zian,  whom  I  now  heard  conversing  in  an  under- 
tone with  the  maritornes  of  the  inn,  a  bare-legged 
Aragonesa.  I  know  not  whether  this  black-eyed 
slattern  had  been  called  in  as  a  sort  of  duenna  by 
the  dame  upon  seeing  the  frail  protection  of  the  blan- 
ket which  divided  her  chamber  from  whosoever 
should  occupy  the  neighbouring  apartment.  If 
such  were  the  motive,  it  was  probably  more  a  mat- 
ter of  affected  than  real  squeamishness.  As  I  gath- 
ered the  bed-clothes  around  me  I  recommended  her 
to  God,  repeating  the  customary  compliment,  which 
she  duly  reciprocated;  and  was  presently  insensible 
to  the  snoring  of  the  muleteers  in  the  hall,  to  the 
attacks  of  the  hungry  fleas,  and  the  whispered  con- 
versation of  the  Zaragozian  and  her  duenna. 

The  next  night  found  us  in  Zaragoza,  which  we 
all  welcomed  with  hearty  good  will  after  a  long  and 
wearisome  journey. 


237 


CHAP.   XV. 

ZARAGOZA. 

THE  inn  at  which  I  found  myself  established  at 
Zaragoza,  though  called  the  best  in  the  place,  was 
a  very  sorry  affair.  It  was  a  large,  ruinous  old 
house,  which  doubtless,  in  its  better  days,  had  been 
the  mansion  of  some  family  of  wealth  and  dignity, 
but  had  now  descended  to  the  base  uses  of  a  com- 
mon inn ;  an  emblem,  perhaps,  of  the  fortunes  of 
its  once  lordly  tenants,  like  it,  fallen  from  their 
former  magnificence  into  poverty  and  neglect.  Its 
present  occupants  were  sluttish  people,  who  left  the 
great  porch  and  stairway  unswept  by  day,  and  in 
gloomy  darkness  by  night ;  while  the  chambers  and 
table  accorded  but  too  well  with  the  other  arrange- 
ments of  the  careless  wife  of  the  host,  a  woman  of 
slovenly  attire,  unattractive  person,  and  a  shrill 
voice,  that  was  often  heard  ringing  ill-naturedly  from 
the  kitchen  to  the  garret. 

The  dull  rooms  of  this  cheerless  domicil  had 
such  a  desolate  air,  that  for  the  sake  of  companion- 


238  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

ship  in  misery,  I  took  a  large,  wo-begone  apartment 
with  one  of  my  fellow-passengers  of  the  diligence ; 
whom,  though  I  have  little  to  say  in  his  praise,  I 
will  nevertheless  introduce  to  the  acquaintance  of 
the  reader.  Don  Ambrosio  Salsereta  was  a  wither- 
ed, sallow,  wrinkled  little  man,  who  counted  some 
forty-five  winters,  but  had  the  face  and  figure  of  a 
person  much  more  advanced  in  life.  Had  I  been  a 
better  physiognomist,  I  might  have  discovered  a 
victim  of  one  of  the  most  fatal  passions,  in  the  blood- 
less, parchment  complexion,  the  reddened  eye,  the 
anxious  countenance,  the  trembling  hand,  the  thin 
gray  hair,  the  broken  form,  and  the  general  aspect 
of  premature  decay  and  exhaustion.  But  these  are 
sometimes  the  symptoms  of  the  innocent  prey  of  dis- 
ease or  misfortune ;  and  perhaps  it  was  not  sur- 
prising that  one  still  young  in  the  world  should 
not  have  been  able  to  make  the  distinction.  Don 
Ambrosio,  as  I  afterwards  learned  from  his  own 
story,  and  principally  from  other  sources,  was  born 
to  a  good  estate,  and  grew  up  a  boy  of  lively,  mer- 
curial temperament,  more  fond  of  pastime  than 
study,  and  of  a  disposition  that  rejected  control. 
When  he  came  to  the  proper  age,  he  was  sent  to  the 


DON    AMBROSIO    SALSERETA.  239 

university  of  Salamanca,  where  the  idle  schoolboy 
was  readily  recognized  in  the  careless  student.  He 
soon  found  that  philosophy  had  no  charms,  that  law 
was  a  pest,  and  metaphysics  an  utter  abomination  to 
a  man  of  spirit  and  fortune.  Besides,  to  have  pes- 
tered his  brains  with  these  quirks  and  subtleties 
would  have  been  an  idle  waste  of  time  to  one  who 
had  high-born  friends  at  Salamanca.  By  their 
influence  he  was  carried  triumphantly  through  the 
horrors  of  examinations,  and  came  forth  full-fledg- 
ed at  the  end  of  his  career,  a  very  Aristotle  in  phi- 
losophy, a  Cicero  in  latinity,  and  a  Justinian  in 
jurisprudence,  without  having  once  troubled  his 
head  about  any  of  these  matters. 

Emerging  from  the  cobweb  halls  of  Salamanca 
with  all  these  ready-made  accomplishments,  he  soon 
found  himself  in  the  possession  of  his  long-expected 
estate,  and  the  gay  "  world  all  before  him  where  to 
choose."  For  a  man  of  wealth  and  spirit  to  languish 
in  the  dullness  of  a  provincial  town,  or  in  the  som- 
bre, old-fashioned  halls  of  his  ancestral  mansion, 
would  have  been  no  better  than  being  buried  alive. 
Madrid  was  the  only  place  for  one  who  aspired  to 
shine  as  the  fine  gentleman  of  wit  and  fortune ;  and 


240  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

to  Madrid  hurried  the  hopeful  Don  Ambrosio  Sal- 
sereta.  With  the  dashing  spirit  that  characterized 
him,  he  took  a  short  cut  to  the  object  of  his  ambi- 
tion, and  made  his  debut  in  the  fashionable  world 
with  becoming  magnificence.  Whose  were  the  gay- 
est livery,  the  most  spirited  pair,  and  the  costliest 
coach  in  the  Prado  ?  Why,  whose  could  they  be 
but  the  newly  arrived  Don  Antonio,  the  happy  heir 
of  a  lordly  store  of  ducats,  who  had  come  to  Madrid 
to  breathe  the  atmosphere  of  the  Court,  and  spend 
his  fortune  as  became  an  elegant  gentleman.  As  a 
matter  of  course,  he  became  a  connoisseur  in  fine 
women  as  well  as  fine  equipages,  and  also  in  the  art 
of  losing  gracefully  at  the  card-table,  an  art  in  which 
he  had  made  a  handsome  progress  while  a  student 
at  Salamanca.  Things  went  on  thus  swimmingly 
for  some  time,  till  one  day  his  contador,  or  steward, 
hinted  that  his  treasury  was  on  the  wane,  and  sug- 
gested, with  becoming  delicacy,  the  propriety  of 
selling  some  of  his  estates.  A  contador,  by  the  way, 
is  in  Spain  an  indispensable  appendage  to  a  man  of 
fortune  or  fashion,  who,  occupied  with  the  more 
agreeable  amusement  of  spending  money,  would 
consider  it  a  degradation  to  perplex  himself  with  the 


DON    AMBROSIO    SALSERETA.  241 

dull  and  vexatious  care  of  gathering  it  in.  The 
Spanish  contador  is  a  person  usually  in  not  much  bet- 
ter odour  for  probity  and  principle  than  the  Alguazil 
or  the  Escribano  ;  and  while  he  ministers  to  the  extra- 
vagance of  his  employer,  usually  takes  care  to  rea- 
lize the  familiar  adage,  "  Q,uien  el  aceite  mesura  las 
manos  se  unta ;"  "  He  who  measures  oil  does  not 
fail  to  anoint  his  fingers  with  it."  Whether  the 
contador  of  Don  Ambrosio  was  an  exception  to  the 
character  of  his  tribe  or  not,  the  heedless  profligacy 
of  his  master  was  quite  sufficient  to  account  for  the 
rapid  disappearance  of  his  patrimonial  ducats ; 
which,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  were  soon  utterly 
spent  on  horses,  women,  and  at  play,  that  rail-road 
to  ruin. 

It  was  probably  a  great  surprise  to  the  dashing 
Don  Ambrosio  to  find  his  fingers  so  soon  at  the 
bottom  of  his  purse,  and  groping  about  in  its  empty 
meshes  without  finding  so  much  as  a  maravedi. 
Doubtless  he  had  some  twinges  of  conscience,  arid 
may  have  even  railed  at  himself  a  little  for  having 
played  the  man  of  spirit  and  fashion  with  such  un- 
exampled cleverness  and  success.  But  the  seeds  of 
repentance  being  sown  on  stony  ground,  were  soon 
21 


242  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

devoured  by  the  hungry  passion  that  had  now  ta- 
ken unlimited  possession  of  his  heart.  Having  be- 
gun to  play  as  the  fine  gentleman,  he  continued  it 
as  the  gambler  by  profession.  As  he  had  gone  to 
school  to  that  shrewd  mistress,  experience,  and  felt 
his  wits  additionally  sharpened  by  the  fruitful  mo- 
ther of  invention,  he  probably  found  this,  for  a  time, 
a  tolerable  resource  with  the  unwary.  Indeed,  I  once 
fell  in  with  one  of  his  countrymen,  who,  having  got 
into  his  clutches,  had  taken  a  lesson  in  circumspection 
at  the  price  of  a  pocket-full  of  ducats.  But  as  talent 
is  sure  to  be  sooner  or  later  appreciated  by  the  dis- 
cerning public,  the  Madrilenians  became  at  last  so 
well  convinced  of  Don  Ambrosio's  genius  and  dex- 
terity, that  they  modestly  shrank  from  competition 
with  him;  and  this  ambitious  Alexander  of  the 
card-table  and  dice-box  grew  tired  of  the  scene  of 
his  victories,  and  sighed  for  new  worlds  to  conquer. 
With  the  most  praiseworthy  perseverance,  he  made 
voyages  of  discovery  to  the  provincial  towns  and 
cities,  staying  long  enough  in  each  to  enable  the  in- 
nocent natives  to  form  a  proper  estimate  of  his  abili- 
ties, and]  then  extending  his  researches  elsewhere. 
With  this  notion  he  had  probably  come  to  Zaragoza, 


DON    AMBROSIO    SALSERETA.  243 

and  had  timed  his  arrival  at  that  opportune  season 
when  the  approaching  celebration  of  the  Virgin  of 
the  Pillar  attracted  crowds  of  curious  strangers  and 
country  gentry  to  the  battered  capital  of  Aragon. 

Had  I  been  able  to  read  the  story  of  Don  Ambro- 
sio's  life  by  intuition,  I  should  of  course  have  pre- 
ferred the  gloomiest  room  of  that  desolate  mansion 
to  the  worshipful  society  of  a  veteran  gambler.  But 
as  these  facts  only  came  to  my  knowledge  at  a  sub- 
sequent period,  the  anxious  reader  must  be  contented 
to  leave  me  for  a  day  or  two  domesticated  in  the  very 
same  apartment  with  this  faded  fine  gentleman  and 
gray-headed  sinner. 

Waking  after  a  long  repose  from  the  wearisome- 
ness  of  the  journey,  I  found  the  worthy  Don  Ambro- 
sio  taking  his  chocolate  in  bed,  holding  the  little  cup 
that  contained  it  with  trembling  nerves  in  one  hand, 
and  with  the  other  dipping  out  the  rich  froth  with  the 
assistance  of  little  slices  of  dry  bread.  We  exchanged 
the  customary  compliments,  inquiring  of  each  other, 
in  certain  set  phrases,  how  we  had  passed  the  night; 
for  the  Spaniard  has  a  string  of  formal  salutations 
for  the  different  periods  of  the  day.  Having 
despatched  his  chocolate,  he  busied  himself  in  mak- 


244  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

ing  a  paper  cigarillo,  which  he  lighted  with  the 
assistance  of  those  indispensable  pocket  companions 
of  every  true-born  Spaniard,  a  flint  and  steel.  This 
done,  he  laid  himself  down  in  his  bed  again,  and 
seemed  absorbed  in  smoking  and  reflection.  To  see 
a  man  smoking  in  bed  of  a  morning  would  have 
appeared  very  odd  to  me  had  I  not  long  since 
become  familiarized  to  this  inveterate  habit.  The 
good-hearted  Medico,  whom  I  had  lodged  in  the 
same  room  with  in  Granada,  used  to  light  his  cigar 
the  first  thing  after  opening  his  eyes  in  the  morning ; 
and  when  the  chambermaid  went  to  call  him,  she 
always  carried  a  little  pot  of  coals  in  her  hand  for 
the  purpose. 

Leaving  Don  Ambrosio  thus  agreeably  occupied, 
I  sallied  out  to  look  at  the  city.  The  irin  stood  in  the 
wide  street  of  the  Coso,  a  name  which  it  probably 
derived  from  its  having  been,  in  days  gone  by,  the 
gay  scene  of  the  bull-fight  or  the  tournament.  Im- 
mediately opposite  the  inn  was  a  large,  antiquated 
building,  known  as  the  Audiencia,  and  where  the 
courts  of  justice  held  their  sittings.  Several  troopers, 
with  heavy  jack-boots  and  bright  brass  helmets,  were 
sitting  on  a  bench  at  the  doorway,  while  one  of  their 


THE    AUDIENCIA.  245 

companions  paced  slowly  up  and  down  with  his  long 
basket-hilted  Toledana  in  one  hand,  and  a  light  short 
carabine  in  the  other.  Besides  this  fierce-looking 
sentinel,  there  were  two  huge,  noseless  giants,  who 
frowned  in  stone  on  either  side  of  the  portal,  and 
seemed,  with  their  Herculean  clubs,  ready  to  beat 
out  the  brains  of  any  one  who  should  attempt  to 
pass  them.  If  these  ill-favoured  Brobdignagians 
were  really  put  there  to  frighten  away  the  multitude, 
it  seems  to  me  to  .have  been  a  very  gratuitous  and 
unnecessary  measure ;  for  the  Spaniard  is  ever  much 
more  disposed  to  fly  from  than  to  approach  the  pre- 
cincts of  the  Justicia. 

Having  mustered  resolution  to  pass  the  savage 
guardians  of  the  portal,  I  wandered  about  this  cold 
and  desolate  hall  of  justice  till  I  at  length  found 
myself  in  one  of  the  tribunals.  At  the  distant  end 
of  a  sad,  gloomy  apartment,  the  judges  were  seated 
on  an  elevated  platform ;  they  were  attired  in  black 
robes,  with  an  under  garment  which  was  buttoned 
up  to  the  throat,  and  trimmed  at  the  neck  and  sleeves 
with  lace  ruffles.  They  had  laid  aside  the  long 
un wieldly  black  hats,  after  the  fashion  of  the  clergy, 
which  they  wear  in  the  street.  While  one  of  these 
21* 


246  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

dignitaries  seemed  absorbed  in  the  cause  before 
them,  his  companions  appeared  heartily  tired  with 
the  long  history  of  the  ease,  which  the  "  Relator," 
clad  in  cloak  and  doublet  of  coarse  black  cloth,  was 
reading  from  a  voluminous  manuscript,  written  in  a 
quaint,  old-fashioned  hand.  Several  lawyers  were 
listening  to  the  case,  attired  much  like  the  judges,  in 
silk  gown  and  cloth  doublet ;  they  remained  in  a 
sitting  posture  when  they  had  occasion  to  address  the 
court.  An  Alguazii  or  bailiff  was  also  in  attendance, 
in  black,  square-tailed  coat  and  knee  breeches,  girt 
with  a  steel  hilled  court  sword,  and  wearing  his 
cocked  hat  in  the  face  of  the  court;  an  indecorous 
custom,  which  I  was  at  a  loss  to  reconcile  with  the 
characteristic  and  punctilious  politeness  of  the 
Spaniard. 

Leaving  the  Audiencia,  I  followed  the  direction  of 
the  spacious  Coso  till  it  brought  me  to  an  open  square, 
in  which  stood  a  small  pillar  surmounted  by  an  iron 
cross.  It  was  erected  to  commemorate  the  heroic 
struggle  and  glorious  end  of  those  who  fell  in  the 
siege  of  Zaragoza.  There  was  much  still  left  in  the 
scene  around  me  to  recall  the  horrors  of  that  despe- 
rate defence.  Hard  by  stood  the  shattered  ruins  of  a 


TRACES    OF    THE    SIEGE.  247 

convent,  of  which  little  was  left  but  one  bold  arch, 
that  stood  in  lonely  and  naked  grandeur,  the  stately 
edifice  whose  roof  it  once  supported  having  fallen 
around  it ;  and  the  houses  on  either  side  of  the  street 
were  still  riddled  with  balls ;  for  in  Spain  the  hand  of 
improvement  is  not  busy,  as  in  happier  countries,  to 
repair  the  work  of  ruin  and  smooth  away  the  traces 
of  decay.  But  even  with  these  vestiges  of  destruction 
before  one's  eyes,  how  is  it  possible  for  the  imagina- 
tion even  faintly  to  conceive  the  horrors  of  that 
period,  when  the  air  rang  with  the  incessant  peals  of 
musketry  and  cannon,  the  ferocious  shouts  of  tri- 
umph, and  the  shrieks  of  the  wounded ;  when  the 
treacherous  mine  hurled  the  unsuspecting  townsmen 
in  the  air  with  the  scattered  fragments  of  the  dwell- 
ings they  defended  to  the  last ;  when  the  streets  were 
heaped  with  smoking  ruins,  the  atmosphere  heated 
with  the  destroying  element  that  leapt  wildly  from 
house  to  house ;  and  when,  to  fill  the  cup  of  bit- 
terness for  the  unhappy  Zaragozians,  the  pestilence 
was  raging  with  the  sword  in  the  deadly  harvest  of 
destruction  ? 

The  spot  where  I  now  stood  witnessed  some  of 
the  most  desperate  scenes  of  that  furious  struggle  ; 


248  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

and  it  is  a  cherished  superstition  of  the  people,  that 
the  blood  of  those  martyrs  in  the  sacred  cause  of  in- 
dependence ran  down  to  the  ruinous  church  of  San- 
ta Engracia,  and  sank  into  the  stone  reservoir  there, 
which  may  be  seen  not  far  from  the  tomb  of  the 
pious  San  Alberto.  I  once  went  to  see  the  reser- 
voir with  my  own  eyes.  As  it  was  closed  with  a  stone 
slab,  the  blood  of  the  martyrs  was  hidden,  but  no  pious 
Catholic  doubts  that  it  is  treasured  there,  and  you 
may  see  the  believing  peasants  kneeling  humbly 
over  the  spot,  and  blessing  their  rosaries  by  hanging 
them  through  the  little  holes  pierced  in  the  stone  for 
that  purpose.  However  one  may  smile  at  these  su- 
perstitions, it  is  as  imprudent  as  it  is  uncourteous  to 
treat  them  publicly  with  disrespect.  A  young  man 
who  was  of  our  party,  on  visiting  Santa  Engracia, 
thrust  his  cane  through  the  slab,  to  bless  it  as  the 
devout  blessed  their  rosaries.  For  this  his  more 
discreet  ( companions  upbraided  him  severely  ;  and 
were,  indeed,  much  alarmed,  lest  a  friar  who  was  pass- 
ing at  the  moment  should  have  observed  this  piece 
of  enormity.  It  would  have  been  quite  enough  to 
have  sent  their  friend  to  digest  his  religious  doubts 
in  the  gallies. 


SUPERSTITIONS  OF  ZARAGOZA.       249 

That  this  and  a  thousand  other  superstitions  are 
deeply  rooted  in  the  minds  of  the  Zaragozians,  and 
that  they  are  excessively  devoted  to  their  faith,  are 
facts  both  illustrated  and  explained  by  the  astonish- 
ing numbers  and  influence  of  the  clergy  in  this 
strong-hold  of  priestcraft.  Thus,  for  instance,  not 
to  take  into  the  account  the  numerous  establish- 
ments of  the  Metropolitan  church,  there  are  in  Za- 
ragoza  sixteen  parochial  cures  and  rectors,  and 
eighty-eight  resident  beneficiaries  ;  besides  the  un- 
distinguished throng  of  choristers,  musicians,  sex- 
tons, servants,  and  hangers-on.  Also  four  monas- 
teries of  monks,  twenty-eight  convents  of  friars, 
and  sixteen  nunneries ;  and  all  this  in  a  broken 
down  city  whose  population  is  only  fifty  thousand. 
Can  we  wonder  that  superstition  should  flourish 
where  it  has  so  many  to  foster  it  ? 

Leaving  the  place  of  the  monument,  a  spot  con- 
secrated by  so  many  melancholy  yet  glorious  recol- 
lections, I  passed  the  gloomy  hall  of  the  Audiencia 
again,  and  directed  my  steps  towards  the  Plaza  del 
Mercado.  On  my  way  I  noticed  a  large  and  im- 
posing edifice,  whose  spacious  portal  was  hung  with 
a  festoon  of  heavy  iron  chains.  This,  it  seems,  was 


250  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

the  palace  dedicated  to  the  reception  of  the  king  and 
^the  royal  family  ;  the  chains  were  emblematic  of  the 
regal  destinies  of  the  building,  and  are  always  affix- 
ed to  edifices  which  have  been  honoured  by  the  abode 
of  the  king.  How  appropriate  a  device  to  mark  the 
abode  of  a  despotic  monarch,  the  iron-handed  ruler 
of  an  enslaved  and  suffering  people  ! 

The  Plaza  del  Mercado  is  a  square,  or  rather  wide 
street,  in  which,  as  its  name  imports,  the  market  is 
held,  and  whose  crowded  bustle  forms  a  singular 
contrast  to  the  dull  quiet  of  the  rest  of  the  dilapidat- 
ed Zaragoza.  On  either  side  of  the  streets,  under 
arcades  propped  by  rusty  columns  and  rickety 
arches,  are  rows  of  shops,  where  all  sorts  of  wares 
are  sold :  mats  of  sedge,  hempen  sandals,  clumsy 
pack-saddles  as  big  as  the  ass  they  are  to  bestride, 
gay  furniture  for  the  more  favoured  mule,  bedecked 
with  dangling  ornaments  of  variegated  worsted, 
straw  panniers,  nettings  of  rope  to  carry  burdens 
in,  gaudy  mantas  to  catch  the  eye  of  the  peasant, 
and  the  jingling  buttons  of  silver  or  gilded  basket- 
work  to  garnish  his  holiday  suit ;  besides  unnum- 
bered stores  of  garbanzos  and  .barley,  sturdy  hams, 
and  sausages  of  as  formidable  length  and  thickness  as 


COSTUME    OF    ARAGON.  251 

the  pasteboard  club  of  the  Spanish  gracioso.  Be- 
neath these  circulate  crowds  of  purchasers  and  loun- 
gers, while  the  centre  of  the  square  is  filled  with 
peasantry,  offering  for  sale  all  sorts  of  fruit,  vegeta- 
bles, and  fodder  for  cattle,  the'  produce  of  the  fertile 
Vega  which  embosoms  Zaragoza.  These  peasants 
are  the  most  finely  formed  men  I  have  any  where 
seen,  and  their  dress  is  well  adapted  to  show  off  their 
masculine  figures.  They  wear  a  jacket  of  coarse 
brown  cloth,  sometimes  adorned  with  plated  or  gild- 
ed buttons,  the  darling  ornament  of  every  peasant 
who  can  muster  pesetas  enough  to  purchase  them, 
and  an  heir-loom  of  finery  which  is  carefully  hand- 
ed down  from  father  to  son.  They  wear  breeches 
also  of  the  same  coloured  cloth,  fitting  tightly  to  the 
person,  and  confined  above  the  hips  by  a  red  sash, 
in  the  dangling  ends  of  which  they  carry  their  rials 
and  quartos.  The  leg  below  the  knee  is  tightly 
covered  by  an  elastic  stocking  of  brown  woollen, 
which  displays  to  great  advantage  its  sinewy  and 
strongly  marked  outline.  This  stocking  only  covers 
the  leg  and  ancle,  and  the  naked  sunburnt  foot  is 
protected  on  the  sole  and  at  the  end  of  the  toes  by  a 
coarse  hempen  sandal.  A  manta,  or  striped  blanket, 


SCENES    IN   SPAIN. 

is  thrown  loosely  over  the  left  shoulder,  or  in  cold 
weather  wrapt  tightly  around  the  body.  The  head  is 
either  covered  with  the  calanes,  or  more  usually  with 
a  cotton  handkerchief  of  a  gaudy  pattern ;  and  be- 
neath the  folds  of  the  sash  may  be  seen  the  horn 
handle  of  the  Spanish  knife.  So  manly  and  digni- 
fied is  the  bearing  of  these  peasants,  that  without 
appealing  to  the  page  of  history,  which  has  conse- 
crated the  heroic  patriotism  of  the  Aragonese,  we 
might  read  in  their  eminently  martial  bearing,  and 
in  the  fire  of  their  keen  dark  eyes,  those  qualities  of 
physical  energy  and  moral  courage  which  yields 
only  with  death. 

Leaving  this  lively  scene,  I  passed  under  the 
dark  archway  of  the  city  prison.  Here  and  there, 
at  the  iron-barred  windows  of  this  abode  of  crime 
and  wretchedness,  a  dirty  prisoner,  with  pale,  ema- 
ciated, and  haggard  countenance,  his  matted  hair 
hanging  wildly  over  his  face,  was  seen  gazing 
wistfully  through  the  grating  that  forbade  his  es- 
cape; contrasting,  doubtless,  the  freedom  of  the 
crowd  without  with  his  own  confinement  and  mise- 
ry within.  Some  of  these  unfortunates  were  en- 
gaged in  angling  for  cuartos  and  ochavos,  much  as 


PLAZA    DEL    PILAR.  253 

the  fisherman  catches  shrimps ;  thrusting  out  from 
between  the  grated  bars  a  pole,  from  the  end  of 
which  depended  a  little  canvass  bag  to  receive  the 
contributions  of  such  good-hearted  Samaritans  as 
might  pass  that  way.  This  ingenious  device  I  have 
often  seen  practised  by  prisoners  in  other  countries ; 
any  one  who  has  toiled  up  the  steps  of  the  Capi- 
toline  Hill  must  remember  having  had  his  com- 
passion appealed  to  in  the  same  way  by  the  poor 
wretches  confined  in  the  prison  in  the  lower  story 
of  the  Senatorial  Palace,  on  that  very  spot  so  closely 
associated  with  all  our  recollections  of  the  long-lost 
grandeur  of  Rome. 

From  the  city  prison  I  directed  my  steps  through 
the  little  square  of  St.  Anthony,  and  so  through  se- 
veral winding,  narrow  and  antiquated  streets  to- 
wards the  Plaza  del  Pilar.  An  unusual  crowd 
seemed  to  be  setting  in  that  direction ;  and  here  and 
there  at  the  corners  of  the  streets,  a  trooper,  mo- 
tionless as  a  statue,  sat  on  his  quiet  charger,  with 
his  drawn  sabre  resting  on  his  shoulder,  and  his 
dark  eyes  steadily  fixed  in  a  right  line  over  his 
horse's  ears  with  becoming  military  precision.  I 
supposed  that  the  Place  of  the  Pillar  was  about  to 
22 


254  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

be  the  scene  of  an  execution  ;  an  exhibition  which 
always  draws  crowds  in  Spain,  as  well  as  in  more  ci- 
vilized countries.  But  on  entering  the  square  I  looked 
around  in  vain  for  culprit  or  gallows  ;  and  on  ask- 
ing the  cause  of  this  gathering  of  the  rabble,  was 
told  that  it  was  the  quinta,  or  drawing  lots  for  the 
quota  of  men  to  be  furnished  by  the  city  of  Zarago- 
za,  in  pursuance  of  a  royal  order  for  adding  twenty 
thousand  bayonets  to  the  Spanish  army.  This 
measure  was  probably  the  result  of  a  disposition 
on  the  part  of  government  to  prop,  with  Spanish 
arms,  the  tottering  throne  of  Don  Miguel  of  Por- 
tugal, who  was  then  anticipating  an  attack  from 
his  brother  Don  Pedro,  and  was  surrounded  by 
discontented  subjects,  the  victims  of  his  oppres- 
sion and  cruelty.  It  was  natural  that  the  Abso- 
lutists, already  filled  with  anxiety  by  the  revolu- 
tion in  France  which  had  just  hurled  the  elder 
branch  of  the  Bourbons  from  the  throne,  should  look 
with  increased  apprehension  to  the  lowering  aspect 
of  Portugal,  and  lend  a  helping  hand  to  the  preca- 
rious fortunes  of  the  usurper. 

The  Plaza  del  Pilar  was  formed  on  one  side  by 
the  great  cathedral  dedicated  to  the  worship  of  the 


THE    CONSCRIPTION.  255 

famous  Virgin  of  the  Pillar,  and  on  the  others  by 
rows  of  tall,  gloomy  houses,  whose  dusty,  time-worn 
and  half-ruinous  appearance  was  of  a  piece  with 
the  decaying  fortune  of  Zaragoza.  At  the  extreme 
northern  end  of  this  square  was  an  elevated  platform 
of  stone,  over  which  a  blue  cotton  awning  was  extend- 
ed, whence  depended  an  antiquated  and  rich  tapes- 
try. Here  was  seen  seated  the  Captain-General  of  the 
province,  with  a  broad,  red  scarf  over  his  shoulder, 
and  wearing  a  variety  of  crosses  and  other  badges 
of  distinction,  which  were  sown  as  profusely  over 
the  left  breast  of  his  coat  as  the  plums  in  a  Christ- 
mas pudding.  Round  this  glittering  dignitary, 
whose  character  as  a  man  of  honour  and  honesty 
was  far  from  being  as  bright  as  the  gilded  insignia 
of  his  office,  revolved  the  satellites  of  his  power,  the 
lesser  luminaries  of  the  Ayuntamiento.  An  escri- 
biente,  or  secretary,  with  pen  behind  his  ear,  sat  in 
readiness  to  note  the  proceedings  of  the  morning ; 
while  the  back-ground  was  filled  with  those  birds  of 
evil  omen,  the  alguazils.  At  a  little  distance  on  the 
left  of  the  Captain-General  was  a  dusky  cloud  of 
priests,  attired  in  the  sombre,  black  garb  of  their  or- 
der, and  having  their  shaven  heads  protected  by  lit- 


256  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

tie  close-fitting-  skull-caps  of  black  silk.  These 
were  the  curates  of  the  fifteen  parishes  of  Zaragoza, 
Their  attendance  was  required  because  they  had 
charge  of  the  baptismal  records,  and  could,  in  dis- 
puted cases,  ascertain  the  names  and  ages  of  any  of 
the  fourteen  hundred  persons  who  were  to  draw  lots 
for  the  service.  It  will  readily  occur  to  the  reader 
that  these  baptismal  records  were  not  the  only  source 
of  information,  as  to  the  condition  of  their  parishion- 
ers, in  the  possession  of  these  curious  curates,  who 
have  every  where  the  character  of  gossips  and  busy- 
bodies,  and  pry  into  the  minutest  family  affairs  of 
their  spiritual  flocks.  Upon  these  assembled  digni- 
taries of  church  and  state  the  portraits  of  the  ill- 
favoured  Ferdinand  and  his  blooming  queen  look- 
ed smilingly  down,  and  seemed  the  patrons  of 
the  meeting.  In  front  of  the  Ayuntamiento  were 
two  barrels  hung  on  an  axle  so  as  to  revolve ;  in 
one  of  these  were  placed  the  names  of  persons  sub- 
ject to  enlistment,  and  in  the  other  black  and  white 
balls.  In  front  of  the  seats  of  the  functionaries,  to 
keep  the  crowd  at  a  respectful  distance,  was  a  double 
line  of  soldiers  with  fixed  bayonets,  whose  tall, 
shaggy,  bear-skin  caps  covered  their  heads  to  the 


THE    CONSCRIPTION.  257 

very  eyes,  giving  them  a  fierce  and  soldier-like  ap- 
pearance. A  troop  of  cavalry 'kept  riding,  at  a  slow 
pace,  up  and  down  the  square  ;  a  martial  and  effec- 
tive body  of  men,  well  mounted  and  equipped.  For 
defensive  armour  they  wore  heavy  jack  boots,  that 
rose  above  the  knee,  and  would  turn,  or  at  least 
deaden,  an  ordinary  sabre  cut,  and  polished  brass 
helmets  adorned  with  flowing  horse-hair;  their 
weapons  were  a  long,  straight  sabre,  from  the  royal 
fabric  of  Toledo,  and  a  short  musket,  the  muzzle  of 
which,  when  not  in  use,  rested  securely  in  a  socket 
at  the  saddle-bow.  A  blanket  was  strapped  to  the 
front  of  the  saddle,  and  at  the  back  was  a  valise 
and  a  small  sieve  made  of  goat-skin ;  each  trooper 
had  also  a  canvass-bag  for  carrying  provisions. 
Troops  are  always  displayed  in  Spain  on  occasions 
which  bring  the  people  together ;  and  such  precau- 
tions were  doubly  necessary  in  Zaragoza,  a  city 
noted  for  the  turbulence  of  its  population. 

The  drawing  of  the  duinta  had  not  only  brought 
together  a  crowd  of  those  who  were  immediately 
interested  in  it,  but  likewise  an  idle  mob  of  labour- 
ers, artisans,  peasants  and  beggars ;  a  rabble  rout, 
whose  attire  was  generally  very  dirty,  and  from 
22* 


258  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

whose  breaths  issued  flames  of  garlic  strong  enough 
to  stagger  the  nerves  of  any  one  but  a  Spaniard. 
Mixed  in  with  the  crowd  might  be  seen  priests  and 
friars,  of  all  colours  and  all  orders,  and  students  of  the 
university,  unwashed  fellows,  hidden  in  their  cape- 
less  black  cloaks  and  solemn  cocked  hats.  Those 
of  them  who  were  destined  for  the  pious  vocations 
of  the  church  might  be  distinguished  by  a  small 
black  stock  with  a  pink  stripe  at  the  edge.  These 
students  of  the  university  of  Zaragoza  were,  almost 
without  exception,  dirty  and  squalid  looking  fellows  ; 
I  mean  those  who  could  be  distinguished  by  the 
uniform,  for  I  was  told  that  the  better  class  of  them 
do  not  appear  in  that  sombre  costume  except  in  the 
lecture  rooms,  or  when  the  university  is  actually  in 
session.  They  may  be  seen  hanging  round  the  bil- 
liard-rooms and  cafes,  or  lounging  in  the  public 
squares,  smoking  their  paper  cigars,  a  lazy,  good-for- 
nothing  crew.  Some  apology  for  the  idleness  of 
these  students  may  be  found  in  the  odious  fact,  that 
the  universities  of  Law,  Medicine  and  Philosophy, 
all  over  Spain,  have  been  closed  since  the  abortive 
efforts  of  the  emigrant  Spaniards  to  kindle  the  flame 
of  revolution  in  1830.  I  asked  a  Spaniard  one  day 


THE    CONSCRIPTION.  259 

what  all  the  young  men  were  to  do  now  that  the 
doors  of  the  universities  had  been  thus  unceremo- 
niously shut  in  their  faces :  "  Ser  mas  brutos," — 
"  become  more  brutish,"  was  his  indignant  reply ; 
adding,  "  this  will  suit  the  government  much  better 
than  if  they  were  enlightened."  What  a  shocking 
thing,  whether  we  consider  the  matter  morally  or 
politically,  that  the  avenues  of  knowledge  should 
be  thus  jealously  barred  up !  How  can  we  sufficiently 
detest  a  government  which  finds  its  best  security  in 
ignorance,  and  abhors  the  light  of  education  as  the 
owl  or  the  bat  the  sun  at  noon-day  ? 

The  drawing  of  the  Q,uinta  presently  commenced, 
arid  it  was  curious  to  observe  the  anxious  attention 
of  the  crowd  as  the  result  of  each  draft  was  an- 
nounced. Their  excitement  was  doubtless  much 
kept  under  by  the  bayonets  through  whose  serried 
and  glittering  points  they  caught  sight  of  the  pro- 
gress of  the  lottery  ;  but  still,  as  each  name  with  its 
good  or  bad  fortune  was  called,  there  was  a  measure 
of  dissatisfaction  or  gratulation  by  the  interested 
party  and  his  friends  at  his  disaster  or  escape.  To 
avoid  enlistment  was  of  course  the  general  wish  of 
those  registered  to  take  their  chance  in  this  lottery  ; 


260  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

for,  besides  the  immediate  sacrifice  of  the  party's  inde- 
pendence, he  would  receive  for  his  services  but  little 
pay.  The  emoluments  of  the  common  soldier  in 
the  Spanish  army  are  fifty-six  reals  a  month,  or  nearly 
three  dollars.  He  receives  his  uniform,  equipments, 
and  food  from  the  public  purse ;  but,  if  I  mistake 
not,  there  are  some  parts  of  his  scanty  wardrobe 
which  he  is  obliged  to  supply  from  his  own  paltry 
pittance. 

When  I  grew  weary  of  standing  in  the  hot  sun 
to  watch  this  motley  rabble,  I  directed  my  steps 
towards  the  ancient  and  overgrown  edifice  conse- 
crated to  the  worship  of  the  famous  Virgin  of  the 
Pillar.  As  this  cathedral  contains  one  of  the  most 
celebrated  shrines  of  Spain,  a  brief  account  of  its 
origin  may  not  be  uninteresting,  particularly  as  its 
truth  is  backed  by  the  authentic  approbation  of 
Padre  Isla,  one  of  the  most  celebrated  names  in  the 
Spanish  church. 

"  Spain,"  according  to  that  pious  father,  "  was  once 
merged  in  idolatry.  Nature  had  enriched  that  beau- 
tiful portion  of  the  world  with  gifts  so  precious  that 
they  attracted  the  avarice  of  the  most  distant  nations. 
These,  with  their  ambition  and  their  arms,  had 


LEGEND    OF    THE    PILLAR.  261 

brought  with  them  their  superstitions  too.  With 
the  conquering  host  of  the  Phrenician  and  the  Roman, 
came  flocking  to  the  Peninsula  all  the  idols  that  ever 
mad  fanatacism  had  invented  in  the  countries  their 
victorious  arms  had  subjected.  This  ridiculous 
multitude  of  deities,  of  whom  Juvenal  makes  sport, 
was  adored  by  the  ancestors  of  the  now  christian- 
ized Spaniard,  who,  in  those  benighted  days,  acknow- 
ledged," says  Father  Isla,  "  no  gods  but  their  own 
fierce  passions,  or  the  dumb  works  which  their  own 
hands  had  made. 

"  While  the  fair  land  of  the  Peninsula  was  in  this 
unhappy  state,  the  blessed  Santiago,  or  St.  James  the 
brother  of  John  and  son  of  Zebedee,  received  from 
Christ  a  command  to  go  forth  and  preach  the  gos- 
pel in  the  provinces  of  Spain.  In  pursuance  of  his 
holy  mission  he  started  from  Jerusalem,  came  to 
Spain  preaching,  and,  passing  into  the  Asturias,  ar- 
rived at  the  city  of  Oviedo,  where  he  converted  a 
woman  to  the  faith.  Thence  he  went  with  pious 
zeal  to  the  Asturias,  and  after  various  wanderings 
arrived  at  Zaragoza,  which  then,  as  now,  stood  on 
the  banks  of  the  river  Elso.  In  this  city,  after 
preaching  many  days,  Santiago  converted  eight 


262 


SCENES    IN   SPAIN. 


male  disciples  to  the  religion  of  his  master.  With 
these  by  day  he  discoursed  of  the  Kingdom  of  God, 
and  by  night  went  forth  to  the  banks  of  the  Elso  to 
take  some  repose  in  the  thickets  which  skirted  its 
margin.  In  this  retirement  they  slept  awhile,  and 
then  were  wont  to  give  themselves  up  to  prayer, 
thus  avoiding  being  disturbed  by  men  and  vexed 
by  the  Gentiles. 

"  One  evening  while  the  eight  disciples  were  sleep- 
ing, the  blessed  Santiago  heard,  at  the  hour  of  mid- 
night, the  voices  of  angels,  who  chanted  in  sweet 
strains  the  canticle  of  Ave  Maria,  gratia  plena,  as  if 
they  were  commencing  the  ceremony  of  the  matin 
worship  of  the  Virgin.  The  apostle  immediately 
fell  on  his  knees,  and  beheld  the  Virgin  Mother  of 
Christ  between  two  choirs  of  angels,  seated  on  a  pil- 
lar of  marble.  The  choir  of  the  celestial  and  angelic 
host  concluded  the  matins  of  the  Virgin  with  the  verse, 
Benedicamus  Domino.  When  this  was  done,  the 
Most  Holy  Mary,  with  endearing  countenance,  called 
to  her  side  the  sainted  apostle  and  with  much  sweet- 
ness said  to  him,  'Here,  Santiago,  my  son,  is  the  place 
marked  out  and  destined  for  my  honour,  whereon, 
by  your  pious  exertions,  must  a  church  be  construct- 


OUR   LADY   OF   THE    PILLAR.  263 

ed  to  my  memory.  Mark  well  this  pillar  whereon  I 
am  seated,  which  my  Son  and  thy  Master  brought 
from  on  high  by  the  hands  of  angels.  Round  this 
shalt  thou  build  the  altar  of  the  chapel.  Here  shall 
the  power  of  the  Most  High  work  prodigies  and 
miracles,  through  my  intercession,  for  those  who,  in 
their  necessities,  implore  my  patronage,  Here  shall 
this  pillar  remain  to  the  end  of  the  world,  and  never 
shall  this  city  lack  true  Christians.' 

"  Having  thus  spoken,  the  Most  Holy  Mother  of 
the  Saviour  was  borne  away  by  the  host  of  angels 
to  the  city  of  Jerusalem.  Santiago,  rejoicing  in  the 
consolation  of  this  marvellous  vision,  commenced 
immediately  to  build  a  church  on  the  site  of  the  pro- 
digy, being  assisted  in  his  pious  labours  by  his  eight 
disciples,  and  preserving  with  due  care  the  sacred 
pillar,  which  is  venerated  to  this  day  by  the  faithful 
in  the  cathedral  of  Zaragoza." 

This  famous  cathedral,  which,  as  tradition  goes, 
occupies  the  site  of  the  little  temple  erected  eighteen 
centuries  ago  by  Santiago,  is,  like  most  Spanish 
churches,  a  mis-shapen,  ugly  mass  without,  but  with- 
in it  is  rich  and  splendid.  Entering  a  large  portal 
where  two  or  three  mendicants  were  sitting  like 


264  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

the  lame  man  at  the  gate  of  the  temple  at  Jerusalem, 
I  found  myself  near  the  famous  chapel,  which,  like 
a  church  within  a  church,  rose  on  beautiful  and 
costly  columns  of  polished  jasper,  and  was  sur- 
mounted by  a  dome  or  canopy  of  the  same  rich  ma- 
terial. At  the  steps  of  this  altar  a  crowd  of  devotees 
were  kneeling,  crossing  themselves  as  their  lips 
moved  in  prayer,  smiting  their  breasts,  and  some  of 
them  bending  their  heads  down  and  kissing  the 
pavement.  Their  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  miraculous 
image  of  the  Virgin,  which,  glittering  with  gems 
and  gold,  stood  on  the  left  hand  of  the  gorgeous  al- 
tar, supported  by  that  precious  pillar  bequeathed  to 
the  pious  Santiago,  and  handed  down  as  a  rich 
legacy  to  the  faithful  through  so  many  generations. 
Most  of  the  devotees,  who  now  worshipped  with  an 
air  of  profound  humility  and  contrition  at  this  vene- 
rated shrine,  were  females,  who  indeed  always  out- 
number the  men  in  their  religious  observances  ; 
and  many  of  these  were  peasant  women,  who  had 
probably  come  thither  to  perform  vows  made  to  the 
Virgin,  a  very  common  usage  in  Catholic  countries. 
Thus  a  person  afflicted  with  some  grievous  disease, 
or  in  a  situation  of  imminent  danger,  vows  to  the 


VOTIVE    OFFERINGS.  265 

Saint  to  whom  he  is  most  devoted,  and  in  the  effi- 
cacy of  whose  intercession  he  most  confides,  the  per- 
formance of  certain  religious  observances,  together 
with  a  more  substantial  proof  of  gratitude  in  the 
shape  of  a  votive  picture  or  a  wax  model  of  the 
afflicted  part.  Thus  one  sees  so  often  the  shrines 
in  churches  hung  with  miniature  legs  and  arms, 
eyes  and  noses,  and  sometimes  little  babies ;  also 
pictures,  generally  of  very  rough  execution,  the 
work  of  sign-painting  artists,  or  haply  the  untutored 
effort  of  the  person  himself,  representing  the  devotee 
thrown  from  a  wagon,  or  tossed  in  a  shattered  bark 
on  the  turbulent  waves,  or  stretched  on  the  'bed  of 
sickness,  with  the  figure  pf  the  Saint  descending 
from  the  clouds  to  succour  the  sufferer.  The  reader 
will  be  readily  reminded  of  the  tabulae  votivae  of  the 
ancients,  and  will  trace  to  the  distant  days  of  Pagan 
superstition  the  origin  of  a  custom  still  preserved 
by  the  Christian  devotee. 

When  the  party  who  has  made  a  vow  is  pre- 
vented by  sickness  or  death  from  fulfilling  it,  it  is 
not  unusual  for  some  conscientious  relation  or  friend 
to  accomplish  it  for  him.  Don  Ambrosio  told  me  of 
an  instance  of  a  lady  and  her  daughter  just  arrived 
23 


266  SCENES    IN    SPAIN, 

from  a  distant  village,  who  had  come  to  Zaragoza 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  fulfilling  a  vow  to  the  Virgin 
of  the  Pillar  made  by  the  lady's  deceased  husband. 
Though  the  famous  feast-day  of  that  Saint  was  just 
at  hand,  an  occasion  of  much  pomp  and  ceremony 
as  well  as  of  gaiety  and  merry-making,  the  widow 
and  her  child  did  not  intend  to  wait  for  it,  conscien- 
tiously considering  that  if  they  made  their  journey 
accessary  to  the  gratification  of  their  curiosity,  it 
might  lose  its  merit  in  the  eyes  of  the  Virgin. 

After  admiring  the  beautiful  marbles  which  adorn 
the  shrine  of  the  Pillar,  I  went  with  the  sacristan  to 
see  the  jewels  of  the  Virgin,  who,  as  he  assured 
me,  was  the  richest  lady  in  all  Zaragoza.  With 
good-natured  officiousness,  and  with  as  much  vanity 
at  the  wealth  of  the  sainted  Mary  as  a  young  girl 
would  exhibit  in  showing  her  own  finery,  he  placed 
in  my  hands,  one  after  another,  splendid  rings,  neck- 
laces, broaches,  bracelets,  buckles,  and  even  watches, 
the  gifts  of  the  devotees  who  had  been  flocking  for 
centuries  to  the  shrine.  With  eyes  sparkling  with 
pleasure  he  bade  me  examine  the  heavy  settings  of 
these  treasures,  and  the  size  and  splendour  of  the 
pearls ;  boasting  that  the  queen  herself  could  not 


SHRINE    OF    OUR    LADY.  267 

display  to  the  eyes  of  her  admiring  courtiers  at  a 
royal  besamanos,  pearls  and  diamonds  of  as  great 
price  as  these  of  the  Blessed  Lady  of  the  Pillar. 
"  Look,"  said  he,  "  at  this  cross  of  St.  Esprit,  present- 
ed by  a  French  nobleman  of  that  order ;  each  of 
those  gems  is  worth  its  thousands  of  ducats ;  and 
here,"  said  he,  half  out  of  breath  with  running  over 
the  catalogue,  "  poise  this  crown  of  gold  and  preci- 
ous stones  in  your  hand,  and  estimate  its  weight. 
You   may  well  suppose,  caballero,"  he  continued, 
"  that  our  Lady  does  not  wear  this  every  day  in  the 
year ;  it  is  only  when  she  is  attired  on  her  own  feast- 
day  in  her  most  splendid  vestments.  You  see,"  said  he, 
"  how  heavy  it  is,  and  yet  it  has  never  worn,  nor 
so  much  as  chafed  the  head  of  the  image."     With  a 
similar  air  of  gravity  and  wonder  the  single-minded 
sacristan  also  told  me,  that  though  the  dust  of  the 
church  accumulated  on  the  garments  of  the  miracu- 
lous image  of  the  Pillar,  it  was  never  found  to  settle 
on  the  face.     As  I  listened  to  this  credulous  old  man 
with  an  air  of  as  much  faith  as  I  could  muster,  pois- 
ing the  while  the  ponderous  crown  in  my  hand,  a 
faded,  sallow-faced  old  woman,  whose  sharp  fea- 
tures were  half  hid  under  a  foxy  mantilla,   and 


268  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

whose  long  rosary  announced  that  she  had  just  been 
performing  her  morning  devotions,  said  to  me  with 
an  air  of  congratulation,  "  Ay  !  joven  caballero,  que 
feliz  es  usted  de  tener  en  la  mano  esa  bendita  co- 
rona?"— "Ah !  young  gentleman,  how  happy  are  you 
to  hold  in  your  hand  that  blessed  crown  ?"  Wish- 
ing the  poor  old  dame  to  enjoy  the  same  gratifica- 
tion, I  passed  it  to  her  ;  an  honour  which  the  jea- 
lous sacristan  seemed  to  think  too  great  for  so  hum- 
ble a  person,  for  he  quickly  took  it  away  and  re- 
stored it  to  its  casket. 

Having  exhibited  the  treasures  of  the  Lady  of  the 
Pillar,  the  garrulous  sacristan  entertained  me  with  an 
eulogiumon  the  wonderful  miracles  wrought  through 
her  intercession,  which  were  so  numerous  that  en- 
tire volumes  had  been  filled  in  narrating  them  by 
her  pains-taking  historians,  Don  Antonio  Fuertes  de 
Viota  and  Don  Feliz  de  Amada.  He  also  sold  me, 
for  four  rials,  a  curious  work,  giving  a  detailed  ac- 
count of  one  of  her  most  renowned  miracles,  with 
the  copious  testimony  taken  on  the  subject.  It  bore 
the  title  of  "  A  copy,  literal  and  authentic,  of  the  pro- 
cess and  decision  of  authorization  upon  a  miracle 
wrought  through  the  intercession  of  our  Lady  of  the 


SHRINE    OF    OUR    LADY.  269 

Pillar  in  the  village  of  Calanda,  of  the  archbishop- 
rick  of  Zaragoza,  the  night  of  the  29th  of  March, 
1640,  restoring  to  Miguel  Juan  Pellicero,  native  of 
the  said  town,  a  leg,  two  years  and  five  months  after 
it  had  been  cut  off  in  the  hospital  of  Zaragoza." 

As  I  came  out  of  the  cathedral,  I  found  a  group  of 
the  common  people  collected  round  an  itinerant 
blind  fiddler,  who  was  attended  by  an  old  woman, 
the  partner,  probably,  of  his  bed  and  board  as  of  his 
mendicant  wanderings,  The  old  man  was  dressed 
in  the  garb  of  the  Aragonese  peasantry.  He  was 
not  as  dirty  and  ragged  as  one  generally  finds  the 
mendicant  fraternity  in  Spain  ;  and  in  his  counte- 
nance, which  was  agreeable  in  spite  of  his  loss  of 
sight,  there  was  a  blended  expression  of  benevolence 
and  sadness.  After  a  short  preamble  in  prose  on 
the  transitoriness  of  life  and  the  necessity  of  the  in- 
tercession of  the  Holy  Virgin  of  the  Pillar,  all  which 
he  delivered  with  the  professional  gravity  of  a  regu- 
lar divine,  he  then  began,  partly  in  song,  partly  in 
recitative,  a  string  of  verses  on  the  object  and  im- 
portance of  saying  mass ;  accompanying  his  cracked 
voice  by  the  dolorous  strains  of  a  violin.  The  crowd 
listened  with  great  decency  and  attention,  While  her 
23* 


270  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

spouse  was  thus  piously  employed,  the  old  woman 
busied  herself  with  the  more  worldly  task  of  gather- 
ing in  a  tin  cup  the  charitable  cuartos  or  ochavos 
of  such  of  the  lookers-on  as  could  afford  to  cast 
their  feeble  mite  into  the  fiddler's  treasury,  or  sought 
customers  for  the  bundle  of  ballads  and  marvellous 
tales  which  she  carried  like  a  napkin  over  her  arm. 


CHAP.    XVI. 

ZARAGOZA. 

HAVING  made  an  engagement  for  an  afternoon's 
ramble  in  the  outskirts  of  Zaragoza  with  a  quondam 
captain,  whose  acquaintance  I  had  formed  in  the 
diligence,  I  despatched,  with  little  delay,  a  very  unat- 
tractive dinner,  in  which,  as  usual,  the  strong  oil  of 
the  country  was  the  universal  sauce,  and  sat  waiting 
in  the  balcony  for  the  arrival  of  my  companion. 
Here  I  was  fain  to  assist  the  troublesome  duty  of 


A    VETERAN    SOLDIER.  271 

digesting  the  beans  and  garbangos,  the  fowl,  the 
flesh,  and  the  other  unnumbered  ingredients  of  an 
olla  podrida,  by  smoking  one  of  those  miscalled 
Havanas,  which  the  king  of  Spain,  the  national 
tobacconist,  deals  out  to  his  patient  subjects  at  two 
cuartos  each ;  a  price  less  proportioned  to  the 
value  of  his  wares  than  to  the  hungry  calls  of  his 
treasury. 

Don  Francisco  Molido  at  length  arrived.  He  was 
a  man  who  had  perhaps  seen  some  fifty-five  winters  ; 
but  his  strong  though  gaunt  form  still  held  out  with 
soldier-like  fortitude  against  the  siege  of  time.  His 
gait  was  still  firm,  and  his  figure  unbending ;  while 
his  dark  black  eye,  that  most  striking  feature  in  the 
national  physiognomy,  still  retained  much  of  the  fire 
of  his  younger  days.  A  certain  formality  of  man- 
ners, deliberateness  of  tone,  and  purity  of  accent  and 
expression,  marked  the  native  of  Old  Castile,  that 
province  once  so  celebrated  for  the  high  honour,  and 
the  loyalty  and  integrity  of  its  inhabitants.  I  asked 
Don  Francisco,  as  being  at  least  a  well-informed  if 
not  an  impartial  witness,  whether  his  countrymen  of 
Castilla  la  Vieja  still  retained  these  enviable  charac- 
teristics. "  That  they  once  deserved  their  good 


272  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

name,"  said  he,  "  nobody  doubts  ;  but  now-a-days 
there  is  too  much  reason  to  think  that  the  Castillian 
has  become  tainted  with  the  general  corruption ; 
for  how  can  you  expect  the  oppressed  and  the  mi- 
serable to  be  loyal  and  honest  ?'J  As  I  saw  but  little 
of  Don  Francisco,  I  will  not  pretend  to  say  whether 
he  was  himself  a  degenerate  son  of  the  high-toned 
old  Castile ;  but  at  all  events,  if  his  own  theory 
were  correct,  he  had  gone  through  misfortune  and 
persecution  enough  to  make  him  not  the  most  honest 
of  men,  nor  the  most  attached  of  the  liege  subjects 
of  Ferdinand. 

"I  served,"  said  he,  "in  his  Catholic  majesty's 
army  for  twenty-seven  years ;  and  at  length,  after  a 
snail-paced  progress,  found  myself  a  captain.  By 
this  time  I  had  lost  something  of  the  suppleness  of 
youth  ;  and  being  a  little  fagged  with  service,  I  was 
contented  to  hang  up  my  sword,  become  a  quiet  man, 
and  exchange  the  sound  of  the  fife  and  drum  for  the 
sinecure  rank  and  frugal  emoluments  of  a  ( retirado.' 
But  in  these  plans  of  quiet  I  reckoned  without  my 
host.  The  stirring  and  turbulent  times  of  the  Con- 
stitution came,  and  when  others  were  drawn  into  the 
whirling  vortex  of  strife  and  tumult,  I  could  not  very 


A    VETERAN    SOLDIER.  273 

well  escape.  You  know  how  the  matter  went. 
People,  high  and  low,  Absolutionists  and  Revolu- 
tionists, swore,  right  and  left,  to  stand  by  the  Consti- 
tution ;  and  so,  too,  swore  his  Gracious  Majesty,  El 
Senor  Don  Fernando.  By  and  by  the  Constitution 
went  by  the  board,  and  now  many  of  those  who  had 
been  its  staunchest  advocates,  with  a  consistency 
which  did  eternal  credit  to  their  honesty,  bowed 
down  and  worshipped  the  sun  of  Absolutism,  which 
had  been  behind  a  cloud  for  a  little  while,  but  now 
shone  forth  again  unshorn  of  its  rays.  The  ingenu- 
ous monarch,  conscience  stricken  for  having  fallen 
into  the  foul  error  of  winking  at  free  principles,  and 
even  the  mortal  sin  of  swearing  allegiance  to  them 
in  the  face  of  God  and  man,  now  strove  to  make 
amends  for  this  heretical  transgression.  But  as  it 
would  have  been  lese  majesty  to  confine  or  bring  to 
the  gallows  his  own  royal  person,  he  contented  himself 
with  imprisoning  and  hanging  his  subjects.  He  thus 
made  atonement  for  those  insulted  rights  of  royalty 
whose  source  is  the  Divinity,  and  offered  an  oblation 
of  a  sweet-smelling  savour  to  the  Spanish  Hierarchy, 
which  had  been  very  uncivilly  treated  in  the  days  of 
the  Constitution. 


274 


SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 


"  While  others  were  thus  unceremoniously  thrown 
into  prison,  or  dangled  from  the  gallows  with  the 
verdugo  on  their  shoulders,  I  was  lucky  enough  to 
escape  the  dungeon  and  the  halter,  but  with  the  loss 
of  my  rank  and  emoluments  of  a  retired  officer. 
God  knows  what  I  should  have  done  when  thus 
turned  out  like  an  old  horse  upon  the  highway  after 
twenty-seven  years'  service,  had  I  not  fortunately 
possessed  some  little  private  means,  whereby  I  was 
enabled  to  eat  and  drink,  and  clothe  myself  withal, 
until  the  government  was  graciously  pleased  to  lift 
me  up  from  that  slough  of  despondency  to  the  con- 
dition of  an  impurificado.  Having  washed  and  cleans- 
ed myself  from  the  filthy  stains  of  political  heresy, 
I  was  now  in  a  fit  and  decent  state  to  enter  again 
into  the  employment  of  his  majesty.  But  here,  too, 
there  was  need  of  much  patience  and  resignation  ; 
for  the  indefinido  is  likely  to  remain  in  his  indefinite 
condition  quite  as  long  as  the  impurificado  waited 
for  his  purification.  Indeed,  the  deferred  hopes  of 
both  these  unfortunate  classes  might  be  likened  to 
the  sad  case  of  the  impotent  man  mentioned  in  Holy 
Writ,  who  had  suffered  under  his  infirmity  for  thirty 
and  eight  years,  and  had  so  long  waited  ineffectually 


A   VETERAN    SOLDIER.  275 

beside  the  pool  of  Bethesda  at  Jerusalem.  But  at 
last  I  got  through  all  these  tedious  stages  of  political 
regeneration,  and  received  a  destino,  or  public  office 
at  Seville,  whose  emoluments,  however,  were  not 
proportioned  to  the  time  and  trouble,  the  fees  and 
memorials,  I  had  expended  in  obtaining  it." 

I  asked  this  persecuted  veteran  why  he  had  not 
left  the  country,  and  attempted  to  build  up  his  for- 
tunes on  some  more  favoured  soil.  But  the  matter 
of  expatriation  with  a  Spaniard  is  not  so  easy  ;  for 
it  appears  that  no  persons  are  allowed  passports  to 
leave  the  kingdom  without  a  royal  license,  obtained 
on  showing  some  satisfactory  cause,  and  giving 
nadores  or  bondsmen  for  their  return.  The  story 
of  the  captain  naturally  led  to  a  conversation 
about  the  situation  of  the  Constitutionalists  in 
Spain,  and  more  particularly  at  Zaragoza.  These 
unfortunate  persons  are  watched  with  the  greatest 
jealousy  by  the  police.  Even  in  their  most  innocent 
diversions  they  are  the  subjects  of  a  tormenting  re- 
straint ;  and  the  malicious  and  blighting  eye  of  sus- 
picion not  only  follows  them  in  public,  but  cruelly 
haunts  them  in  the  privacy  of  their  dwellings. 
They  are  cut  off  from  the  dearest  enjoyments  of  so- 


276  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

cial  intercourse,  for  they  would  naturally  eschew 
the  companionship  of  their  political  enemies,  and 
are  expressly  forbidden  to  form  reunions  of  more 
than  three  or  four  persons  among  themselves,  under 
the  penalty  of  fine  or  imprisonment  at  the  tender 
mercy  and  discretion  of  the  Alcalde.     He  being,  of 
course,  severely  orthodox,  and  withal  anxious  to  re- 
commend himself  as  the  sworn  foe  of  political  heresy, 
would  naturally  dispense  justice  with  a  heavy  hand. 
The  poor  Liberals,  taught  cunning  by  necessity  and 
hypocrisy  by  suspicion,  may  associate  together  in  a 
sly  and  under-hand  way  ;  but  in  these  innocent  re- 
unions the  sword  hangs  over  them  by  a  single  thread, 
ready  to  fall  at  the  merest  touch  of  suspicion.     I 
was  told  by  a  Constitutionalist  of  Zaragoza,  that  one 
evening  one  of  his  friends,  a  Liberal,  had  at  his  house 
a  little  tertulia,  or  party  of  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
brought  together  for  the  most  innocent  object  in  the 
world,  when  the  justicia  popped  in  upon  them,  and 
marched  them  all  off  to  prison  without  respect  of 
sex  or  persons.     Meanwhile  Royalists  of  approved 
quality  are  allowed  to  divert   themselves  as  they 
please,  and  may  with  impunity  commit  the  atrocious 
crimes  of  coming  together  for  a  game  at  picquet  or 


A    VETERAN    SOLDIER.  277 

a  contradance.  In  return  for  this  oppression,  more 
galling  to  the  poor  Liberals  from  the  contrasted  license 
of  those  who  wear  the  red  cockade,  they  have  the 
only  satisfaction  of  execrating  in  their  hearts  the 
rod  that  smites  them,  or  breathing  their  curses  in  a 
whisper  to  the  few  friends  whom  they  dare  to 
trust 

It  may  be  supposed  that  Don  Francisco  did  not 
hold  his  querulous  conversation  with  me  before  a 
multitude  of  witnesses,  like  one  of  our  politicians 
who  pours  out  his  discontent  at  a  town  meeting, 
and  damns  the  powers  that  be  in  the  open  tap- 
room. On  the  contrary,  he  took  care  to  close  the 
door  of  the  chamber  before  touching  these  forbidden 
themes,  and,  indeed,  kept  peering  suspiciously 
around  him,  and  talked  in  an  under-tone  as  if  he 
thought  even  the  walls  and  balconies  had  ears. 
"  En  Espana  o  es  asi  o  asi ;"  "  In  Spain,"  said  he, 
"  it  is  either  thus  or  thus  ;"  first  compressing  his  lips 
with  his  finger  and  thumb,  and  then  pressing  his 
open  hand  against  his  throat  to  imitate  the  process 
of  strangulation ;  as  much  as  to  say,  you  must 
either  keep  your  mouth  shut,  or  the  hangman  will 
choke  you  into  silence.  As  might  be  expected,  the 
24 


278  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

poor  Liberal  is  ever  cowed  and  crest-fallen,  and  has 
as  great  a  horror  of  the  police  as  poor  Sancho  of  the 
Holy  Brotherhood,  or  the  whilome  Jew  of  the  rack 
and  thumbscrews,  the  fire  and  faggots,  of  the  Inqui- 
sition. 

After  Don  Francisco  had  vented  his  indignation 
on  this  irritating  subject,  and  found  the  fire  of  his 
fifth  cigarillo  scorching  his  stained  finger-ends,  we 
started  upon  our  walk,  passing  through  the  bustling 
Plaza  del  Mercado,  and  thence  by  the  proud  temple 
of  the  Virgin  to  the  bridge  of  the  Ebro.  As  this 
bridge  was  the  only  link  of  connection  between 
Zaragoza  and  the  opposite  village  and  country,  it 
always  offered  a  crowded  and  lively  scene.  Here 
were  constantly  passing  and  re-passing  stout  Ara- 
gonese  peasants,  stern  and  wild-looking  fellows,  dri- 
ving, with  many  quaint  and  guttural  expressions  of 
reproach  and  encouragement,  accompanied  by  the 
more  practical  eloquence  of  their  cudgels,  a  string 
of  quiet  mules  or  sleepy  asses.  Buxom  serving- 
women,  too,  might  be  seen  carrying  tall,  long-sided 
earthen  jars,  filled  with  water,  on  their  heads,  which 
they  managed  to  balance  without  the  assistance  of 
their  hands :  young  men  and  women  going  to  walk 


LIFE   OP    ST.    FRANCIS.  279 

on  the  neighbouring  Arboleda ;  the  round-faced 
priest,  roasting  beneath  the  burden  of  his  hot,  black 
cloak  and  mammoth  sombrero ;  and  the  unwashed 
friar,  haply  of  the  order  of  the  mendicant  Francis- 
cans, with  his  hooded  gown  of  coarse,  gray  woollen 
confined  at  the  waist  with  a  knotted  cord,  his  rosary 
dangling  ostentatiously  at  his  side,  his  feet  half 
covered  with  hempen  sandals,  and  a  long  bag  hung 
over  his  shoulder  well  filled  with  the  charitable  pro- 
duce of  the  day's  begging. 

As  San  Francisco  is  one  of  the  most  venerated  of 
the  beatified  saints,  as  the  order  which  he  founded 
is  one  of  the  most  numerous  in  Christendom,  and  as 
his  biography  was  very  remarkable  in  itself,  per- 
haps a  few  of  the  leading  facts  of  his  life  may  be 
amusing  to  the  curious  reader.  He  was  born  in 
the  city  of  Asis  in  1182,  and  his  father  Bernadon 
was  a  tradesman  of  that  place.  He  called  the  future 
saint  Giovani  at  his  baptism,  but  he  afterwards  got  the 
cognomen  of  Francisco  from  the  facility  with  which 
he  learnt  the  French  tongue,  which  was  in  those  days 
as  necessary  in  their  trade  to  the  merchants  of  Italy, 
as  it  has  since  become  in  commerce  and  diplomacy 
all  the  world  over,  His  parents  wished  to  rear  up 


280  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

the  little  Frenchman  in  their  own  line  of  life ;  but 
it  seems  the  bustle  of  business  and  the  higgling  of 
the  counter  were  not  made  for  the  single-minded 
Francisco.  In  short,  he  eschewed  the  warehouse, 
and  employed  himself  in  holy  contemplation  and  de- 
vout seclusion.  While  thus  engaged,  he  was  seized, 
says  Father  Croisset,  with  a  most  vehement  desire  to 
imitate  the  poverty  and  labours  of  the  Saviour,  and 
now  found  no  delight  but  in  ministering  to  the  le- 
prous and  the  poor.  He  made  a  voyage  to  Rome,  to 
visit  the  sepulchres  in  which  reposed  the  sacred  re- 
mains of  the  apostles.  There,  in  coming  one  day 
out  of  a  church,  he  met  a  troop  of  mendicants,  who 
were  assembled  to  ask  alms  of  the  devout  at  the 
porch.  Church  gates,  by  the  way,  seem  ever  to 
have  been  a  favourite  rendezvous  of  the  beggarly 
fraternity  from  the  time  of  the  lame  man  that  Peter 
healed  at  the  Beautiful  Gate  of  the  temple  to  the 
days  of  the  modern  Lazzeroni.  He  divided  among 
them  all  the  money  he  had  to  the  last  sequin  ;  he 
gave  his  garments  to  one  who  was  half  naked,  and 
attired  himself  in  the  pauper's  unsavoury  rags; 
then  sitting  down  with  them,  he  passed  the  rest  of 
the  day  with  these  unprepossessing  companions. 


LIFE    OF    ST.    FRANCIS.  281 

Francisco  had  naturally  a  spice  of  aristocracy  in 
his  temperament,  and  was  fond  not  only  of  cleanli- 
ness, a  fault  not  often  chargeable  to  the  modern  fri- 
ar, but  even  a  lover  of  magnificence  in  his  attire. 
This  noble  victory  for  ever  extinguished  in  him  the 
worldly  passion  for  cleanliness  and  fine  clothes. 
He  appeared  ever  after  like  one  born  in  a  lowly  and 
abased  condition  ;  and  poverty,  that  bugbear  of  this 
money-making  world,  became  his  favourite  virtue. 

Soon  after  he  returned  to  his  native  Asis ;  and  one 
day,  while  saying  his  vesper  prayers  in  the  old 
church  of  Saint  Damian,  which  was  then  in  so 
ruinous  a  condition  that  it  threatened  to  tumble 
down,  he  heard  a  voice  as  it  were  from  the  crucifix 
on  the  altar,  which  bade  him  to  repair  the  church. 
He  resolved  to  obey  the  bidding  of  the  holy  voice ; 
returned  to  his  home,  and  bethinking  himself  that 
he  had  not  so  much  as  a  paul  in  his  pocket,  he  laid 
his  hands  upon  several  pieces  of  cloth  in  his  father's 
shop,  which  the  pains-taking  tradesman  doubtless 
valued  dearly.  Having  loaded  one  of  his  father's 
horses  with  them,  he  eloped  to  Foligmo,  where  he 
sold  the  clothes  and  the  beast  into  the  bargain .  Then 
returning  to  Asis,  he  hied  to  the  house  of  the  chap- 
24* 


282  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

lain  of  Saint  Damian ;  he  besought  him  to  grant 
him  refuge  in  the  church,  and  delivered  to  him  all 
the  money  he  had  got  for  the  horse  and  broadcloths 
that  he  might  employ  it  towards  repairing  the  time- 
worn  sanctuary.  The  honest  chaplain  admitted 
him  with  hearty  good  will  to  the  hospitality  of  his 
house ;  but  had  conscientious  scruples  about  ac- 
cepting the  proffered  spoils  of  Bernadon's  warehouse 
and  stable,  and  apprehensions  of  an  action  of  trover 
at  the  suit  of  the  suffering  tradesman.  Whereup- 
on Francisco,  with  pious  obstinacy,  laid  the  mo- 
ney down  on  the  church-window.  The  compen- 
dious biography  of  Father  Croisset,  the  translation  of 
which  by  Padre  Isla  is  the  favourite  manual  of  the 
Spanish  devotee,  does  not  run  sufficiently  into  de- 
tail to  inform  us  whether  this  money  ever  made  its 
way  to  the  pocket  of  the  rightful  owner,  or  whether 
it  was  spent  in  propping  up  the  tottering  towers  of 
Saint  Damian.  It  appears,  however,  pretty  certain, 
from  some  circumstances  that  are  mentioned,  that 
the  wronged  Bernadon  never  got  it ;  and  it  may  be 
inferred  that  the  zealous  Saint  Francisco  at  last  suc- 
ceeded in  quieting  the  qualms  of  the  curate. 

Under  the  protection  of  the  chaplain  he  spent 


LIFE    OP    ST.    FRANCIS.  283 

some  days,  and  employed  them  in  fasts,  vigils,  and 
flagellation ;  until,  at  length,  his  father  came,  full 
of  fury,  and  exclaiming  that  his  son  had  robbed 
him.     The  Saint  was  fain  to  take  refuge  in  flight 
from  this  outpouring  of  paternal  wrath,  and  remain- 
ed hidden  for  some  days  in  a  cave ;  but  at  the  end 
of  this  time,  ashamed  of  his  own  cowardice,  and, 
perhaps,  driven  by  the  fleshly  calls  of  hunger,  he 
sallied  from  his  hiding  place,   resolved  to   suffer 
whatever  might  befall  him.     He  showed  himself  in 
the  streets  of  Asis  to  his  astonished  acquaintance, 
quite  disfigured  and  in  a  filthy  plight.     Every  body 
took  it  for  granted  that  poor  Francisco  had  lost  his 
wits,  and  a  rabble  rout  of  mischievous  boys  followed 
him  with  shouts  and  whistling.     Hearing  the  noise 
and  seeing  the  mob,  his  father  came  up,  and  recog- 
nizing his  son,   dragged  him  away  to  his  house, 
added  blows  to  make  his  lessons  of  paternal  counsel 
more  impressive,  and  shut  him  up  in  a  room  as  a 
madman.     But  his  wife,  quite  despairing  to  subdue 
the  constancy  of  her  son,  let  him  out  when  the  old 
man's  back  was  turned,  and  Francisco  flew  at  once 
to  Saint  Damian,  and  to  the  arms  of  his  kind  friend 
the  chaplain.     When  Bernadon  got  intelligence  of 


284  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

this  second  elopement,  he  set  out  forthwith  in  pur- 
suit of  him,  more  distressed  at  the  loss  of  his  clothes 
and  gelding  than  of  his  son.  But  the  Saint,  filled 
with  a  new  valour,  and  animated,  says  Father 
Croisset,  with  the  spirit  of  God,  went  forth  to  meet 
his  indignant  parent ;  and  said  to  him,  "  I  am  more 
God's  son  than  thine,  and  him  only  will  I  serve." 
"  If  that  be  the  case,"  responded  the  father,  "  restore 
me  my  money,  and  come  with  me  to  renounce  your 
inheritance  before  the  archbishop."  "  With  hearty 
good  will,"  said  Francisco ;  and  as  soon  as  he  found 
himself  in  the  presence  of  the  prelate,  without  giving 
his  father  time  to  say  a  word,  he  stripped  off  his 
garments,  leaving  nothing  to  hide  his  nakedness 
but  the  hair-cloth  shirt  which  he  wore  to  mortify 
his  flesh.  The  garments  he  delivered  to  his  parent, 
and  renounced,  at  the  same  time  his  patrimony. 
The  bishop,  astounded  and  softened  at  the  sight  of 
this  generous  sacrifice,  embraced  him,  and  covered 
him  with  his  own  flowing  robes  ;  then  giving  him 
his  benediction,  he  bade  him  farewell,  and  sent  him 
to  his  hermitage. 

Francisco  was  now  at  the  age  of  twenty-five 
years,  when,  says  father  Croisset,  having  burst  all 


LIFE    OP    ST.    FRANCIS.  285 

the  bonds  of  flesh  and  blood,  and  resigned  all  those 
temporal  goods  that  had  detained  him  in  the  world, 
he  went  forth  to  seek  a  distant  solitude,  singing 
by  the  way  the  praises  of  God  in  the  French 
tongue.  In  a  certain  wood  he  encountered  some 
robbers,  who  regaled  him  with  a  beating,  and  rolled 
him  in  a  snow-bank.  But  this  uncomfortable  treat- 
ment did  not  cool  his  zeal ;  on  the  contrary,  glad  to 
suffer  for  religion's  sake,  he  is  said  to  have  after- 
wards counted  this  adventure  among  the  greatest 
pieces  of  good  fortune  that  had  ever  befallen  him. 

After  this  he  spent  much  time  in  ministering  to  the 
sick  in  hospitals,  where  he  is  said  to  have  cured  a 
leper  by  embracing  him.  He  also  went  about  beg- 
ging alms  to  rebuild  the  dilapidated  church  of  Saint 
Damian,  which  still,  it  seems,  remained  in  a  ruinous 
condition  in  spite  of  the  sale  of  the  horse  and  broad- 
cloth. It  is  said,  that  one  day,  at  mass  he  heard  these 
words  of  the  evangelist, — "  Provide  neither  gold,  nor 
silver,  nor  brass  in  your  purses,  nor  scrip  for  your 
journey,  neither  two  coats,  neither  shoes,  nor  yet 
staves."  Whereupon  he  assumed  this  as  the  rule  of 
his  life.  He  cast  off  his  shoes,  threw  away  his  staff, 
renounced  money  for  ever,  left  himself  with  but  one 


286  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

tunic,  and  dismissing  the  cincture  of  leather  with 
which  it  was  fastened,  he  girded  his  loins  with  a 
common  rope.  Having  thus  brought  himself  to  as 
unsophisticated  a  condition  as  poor  Tom  in  the  play, 
and  owing  "  the  worm  no  silk  and  the  cat  no  per- 
fume," he  went  forth  to  preach  in  public.  His  pro- 
selytes were  called  Penitents  of  Asis ;  and  such  was 
the  increase  of  Saint  Francisco's  spiritual  family,  that 
even  in  his  life  they  numbered  six  thousand.  The 
bishop  of  Asis,  his  bosom  friend  and  counsellor, 
with  a  prudent  eye  to  the  temporal  welfare  of  the 
disciples,  was  of  the  opinion  that  some  rents  should 
be  appropriated  for  the  subsistence  of  the  Friars ; 
but  the  single-minded  Francisco,  with  a  disinterest- 
edness not  always  evinced  by  holy  men,  remained 
inflexible,  and  was  absolutely  opposed  to  their  having 
any  other  rents  than  those  of  Divine  providence  and 
the  charity  of  the  faithful.  In  so  doing,  however,  he 
did  not  lean  on  a  broken  reed ;  for  never  was  Fran- 
ciscan friar,  from  that  day  to  this,  known  to  lack  good 
cheer.  Meanwhile,  it  was  found  necessary  to  build 
many  convents,  since,  we  are  told,  the  cities  of  Arez- 
zo,  Pisa,  Bologna,  Florence,  and  many  others,  cla- 
moured for  them  as  earnestly  as  some  of  their  dege- 


LEGEND    OF    THE    SAINT.  287 

generate  citizens  have  since  prayed  to  be  rid  of 
them. 

None  of  his  disciples  excelled  him  in  the  art  of 
self-mortification.  He  scarce  ever  touched  cooked 
food,  and  ever  denied  to  his  rebellious  senses  what 
he  thought  might  gratify  them.  If  in  the  charitable 
donations  of  the  faithful  he  met  with  any  thing  of 
special  gusto,  lest  it  should  tickle  his  palate  he  sea- 
soned it  with  ashes.  He  treated  his  body  with  the 
greatest  rigour  and  contempt,  calling  it  his  donkey, 
and  saying  "thistles  were  good  enough  food  for  it." 
His  usual  bed  was  the  naked  earth  ;  and,  like  the  pa- 
triarch Jacob,  he  used  a  stone  for  a  pillow. 

These  excessive  labours  and  privations,  it  may  be 
supposed,  hastened  the  close  of  his  mortal  career.  He 
died  in  the  year  1226  ;  and  it  is  recorded,  that  he  had 
scarcely  expired,  when  the  glory  which  his  beatified 
soul  enjoyed  seemed  to  communicate  itself  to  his 
body.  By  the  ordinary  laws  of  nature,  "  this  mor- 
tal coil,"  when  we  shuffle  it  off,  falls  a  prey  to  corrup- 
tion, and  presently  becomes  a  loathsome  and  hide- 
ous thing.  But  the  corpse  of  Saint  Francisco  re- 
mained unchanged,  and  exhaled  a  delicious  odour, 
which  filled  the  air  with  fragrance.  On  the  feet, 


288  SCENES    IN    SPAIN*     ' 

hands,  and  side  were  seen,  divinely  impressed,  wounds 
like  those  of  the  crucified  Saviour  ;  and  when,  two 
years  after,  the  body  was  disinterred  to  be  deposited  in 
a  church  erected  in  his  honour,  they  found  it  entire ; 
the  flesh  being  uncorrupted  and  unconsumed,  main- 
taining itself  in  an  erect  posture  without  any  sup- 
port, with  the  eyes  open  and  raised  towards  heaven, 
and  the  blood  of  the  wounds  still  red  and  liquid. 
Nay,  two  hundred  and  twenty  years  afterwards  he 
was  seen  in  this  same  posture  by  the  Pope  Nicholas 
V.  accompanied  by  a  cardinal,  a  bishop,  his  secretary, 
the  superior  of  the  convent,  and  three  other  devout 
persons ;  all  which  was  set  forth  in  authentic  docu- 
ments, doubtless  preserved  to  this  day  with  religious 
care.  In  these,  the  incredulous  reader,  if  such  there 
be,  may  find  "confirmation  strong"  of  all  that,  under 
the  authority  of  Father  Croisset,  we  have  here  set 
forth  for  his  edification  in  saintly  legends. 

But  to  return  from  this  long  digression  into  which 
the  sight  of  a  gray  friar  has  betrayed  us,  the  captain 
and  myself  took  our  way  across  the  bridge  of  the 
Ebro,  directing  our  steps  towards  the  convent  of  San 
Lorenzo.  This  spacious  edifice  has  a  beautiful  site, 
its  spacious  balconies  looking  forth  on  the  Ebro  which 


CONVENT    OF    SAN    LORENZO.  289 

washes  its  walls.  In  its  day  of  prosperity  it  must 
have  been  one  of  the  choicest  hives  of  these  reli- 
gious drones.  But,  unluckily,  their  drowsy  retirement 
was  disturbed  by  the  bombs  and  cannon  of  the  de- 
stroying Frenchmen,  who  sent  half  the  building 
tumbling  about  their  ears.  The  other  half,  shorn 
of  its  splendour,  still  shelters  the  remnant  of  its  in- 
mates. As  we  groped  our  way  among  the  blacken- 
ed ruins,  we  came,  in  one  of  the  lower  rooms,  upon 
a  troop  of  half-naked,  sunburnt  children,  who  were 
nestling  in  filth  and  wretchedness  round  a  dirty  wo- 
man, the  mother  of  the  brood  ;  while  a  mendicant 
wretch,  perhaps  the  father  of  this  hopeful  progeny, 
lay  in  a  corner  asleep,  wrapped  in  his  tattered  man- 
ta.  These  were  probably  tenants  by  sufferance  of 
the  ruined  cloisters  of  San  Lorenzo.  The  woman 
gathered  her  ragged  garments  about  her,  and  pushed 
away  her  uncombed  hair  from  her  eyes  as  she  con- 
ducted us,  among  crumbling  arches  and  prostrate 
walls,  towards  the  entrance  of  that  part  of  the  con- 
vent still  used  by  the  friars. 

We  found  but  few  of  the  cloisters  entire.  These, 
and  the  fine  gallery  that  looks  down  upon  the  Ebro 
and  upon  the  antiquated  domes  and  turrets  of  Za- 

25 


290  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

ragoza,  contrasted  with  the  gay  verdure  of  the  fer- 
tile Vega,  were  exhibited  to  us  by  one  of  the  bro- 
thers of  San  Lorenzo.  He  was  an  old  man,  very 
fat  and  coarse,  attired  in  a  coarse  woollen  gar- 
ment ;  his  head  was  almost  bare,  there  being  only  a 
narrow  ring  of  thin  gray  hair  running  round  the 
skull  just  above  the  ears.  He  seemed  a  good-na- 
tured old  fellow,  quite  free  from  malice  and  uncha- 
ritableness,  except  on  the  subject  of  the  French.  To 
have  been  unceremoniously  turned  out  of  doors  to 
the  ugly  music  of  whistling  bullets,  bursting  bombs, 
and  the  convent  towers  toppling  down,  was  indeed 
quite  enough  to  stir  even  the  sluggish  blood  of  a 
friar.  On  this  and  many  other  themes,  of  which 
the  favourite  one  was  the  former  grandeur  and  dig- 
nity of  his  convent,  the  old  man  rattled  away  with 
the  garrulity  of  age,  animating  his  discourse  from 
time  to  time  with  a  pinch  of  snuff,  of  which  he  in- 
vited us  to  take,  presenting  his  box  with  a  gracious 
smile,  and  a  "  Para  servir  a  usted,  caballero" — "  At 
your  worship's  service." 

Returning  by  the  sturdy  old  bridge,  which  pro- 
mises to  withstand  the  attacks  of  as  many  centuries 
as  it  has  already  braved,  we  wound  our  way  through 


THE    HUERTA.  291 

the  narrow  streets  of  Zaragoza  to  the  Puerta  Que- 
mada.  This  gate,  I  was  told,  derived  its  name  from 
the  autos-de-fe  of  the  Inquisition  being  formerly  held 
there.  It  was  the  scene  of  many  a  desperate  onset 
and  resistance  in  the  gloomy  days  of  the  siege  ;  for 
the  walls  of  the  houses  are  still  covered  with  the 
marks  of  musket-balls.  Passing  the  gate,  we  emerg- 
ed from  the  city  upon  the  banks  of  the  little  stream 
called  the  Huerta,  which  now  flowed  quietly  along, 
a  mere  unpretending  rivulet ;  but  which  sometimes 
becomes  a  furious  torrent.  This  happened  the  year 
before,  when,  swollen  by  the  rains,  it  overleapt  its 
banks,  and  swept  away  several  bridges  in  its  furious 
career.  Beside  the  little  thread  of  water  that  crept 
lazily  through  the  half-naked  bed  of  the  stream, 
crowds  of  busy  washerwomen  were  down  on  their 
knees  beating  clothes  clean  with  a  stick  after  the 
fashion  of  the  slovenly  laundresses  of  Spain  and 
France.  Carts,  too,  laden  with  grapes,  and  drawn 
by  stout  mules,  were  seen  fording  the  stream ;  for  the 
slow-motioned  Ayuntamiento  had  not  yet  repaired 
the  ruined  bridge  hard  by.  The  labours  of  the 
beasts,  as  they  toiled  across  the  bed  of  the  Huerta, 
were  animated  by  the  cries  and  cudgels  of  sway- 


292 


SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 


thy  peasants,  with  their  hands  and  faces  stained,  and 
their  garments  red  with  the  juice  of  the  grape.  Be- 
fore us  stretched  the  beautiful  and  fertile  Vega,  gay 
with  the  verdure  of  a  laboured  cultivation,  and  dot- 
ted with  casas  de  campo,  or  summer-seats  of  the 
citizens.  It  is  not  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Zara- 
goza,  as  in  the  cheerless  and  deserted  vicinity  of 
Madrid,  and  of  almost  all  Spanish  towns,  where  the 
insecurity  of  life  and  property  shuts  up  the  people 
within  the  asylum  of  the  city  gates.  The  lower 
classes  of  the  Zaragozians  have,  indeed,  the  charac- 
ter of  a  turbulent  race,  prone  to  revolt,  and  ready  to 
revenge  an  injury  or  an  insult  by  the  impromptu 
punishment  of  the  knife,  rather  than  by  the  slow- 
handed  and  uncertain  retribution  of  the  law.  But 
they  are  said  not  to  be  much  addicted  to  robbery 
and  unprovoked  outrage ;  and  certainly  the  sum- 
mer-houses scattered  over  the  Vega  would  seem  to 
prove  that  the  assertion  is  true. 

As  we  wandered  along  the  quiet  banks  of  the 
Huerta,  my  companion  pointed  out  to  me  a  large 
and  commodious  building,  then  in  the  progress  of 
erection,  and  destined  to  accommodate  a  brother- 
hood of  the  Bare-footed  Carmelites.  The  unspar- 


CONVENT    OF    CARMELITES. 


293 


ing  French,  with  their  villanous  saltpetre,  had 
blown  these  idlers  out  of  house  and  home.  But 
though  these  unshod  devotees  are  mendicants,  who, 
as  the  phrase  is,  "  viven  por  las  alforgas,"  that  is  to 
say,  live  by  the  alms  with  which  the  pious  fill  the 
capacious  bags  of  striped  cotton  which  they  carry 
about  on  their  shoulders,  they  had  yet  found  means 
to  rebuild  a  snug  habitation,  and  since,  greatly  to 
enlarge  their  abode.  How  the  poverty-stricken 
Spaniards  contrive  to  support  not  only  the  herds  of 
beggars  who  swarm  the  streets,  but  also  those  crowd- 
ed  hives  of  religious  mendicants,  the  friars,  Heaven 
only  knows.  But  such  is  the  fact ;  and  the  sturdy 
condition  of  these  worthies  of  the  cowl  and  rosary, 
shows  that  they  do  not  lead  a  starvling  life. 

The  bare-footed  Carmelite  wears  a  tunic  of  coarse 
brown  cloth,  with  a  sort  of  cloak  or  gown  of  white 
flannel,  with  a  hood  which  may  be  drawn  over  the 
head.  He  also  protects  the  soles  and  toes  of  his  feet 
with  the  Yalencian  sandal  made  of  plaited  cords,  an 
ingenious  compromise  with  that  rule  of  the  order 
which  requires  him  to  go  unshod.  On  a  journey 
he  wears  a  long  and  broad-brimmed  white  hat, 
shaped  like  those  of  the  clergy ;  but  in  his  ordinary 
25* 


294  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

walks  he  usually  goes  bare-headed,  which  displays 
to  due  advantage  his  shaven  skull.  At  his  girdle  he 
carries  a  formidable  rosary,  as  long,  in  sailor  phrase, 
as  the  main-top  bow-line  ;  it  is  of  that  sort  called  the 
rosary  of  Jerusalem,  and  has  more  than  a  hundred 
beads.  Now,  for  each  of  these  beads  an  Ave  Maria 
is  or  should  be  said  every  day ;  and  hence  the 
length  of  his  rosary  is  an  ostentatious,  though 
haply  hypocritical,  standard,  by  which  the  laity  may 
measure  the  amount  of  his  diurnal  devotions. 

After  a  pleasant  ramble  with  Don  Francisco,  we 
came  back  at  nightfall  to  Puerta  Q,uemada.  The 
washerwomen  having  finished  their  labours,  were 
returning  from  the  river-side  with  bundles  of  wet 
clothes  on  their  heads.  The  tired  vintner  was  com- 
ing from  the  vineyard  with  his  last  load  of  grapes, 
lazily  carolling,  to  amuse  himself  and  cheer  his 
tired  beast,  odds  and  ends  of  Spanish  ballads,  a  verse 
from  the  hota  of  the  Aragonese  or  the  national  bo- 
lero. Just  within  the  gate  a  crowd  of  peasants  were 
collected ;  for  this  is  a  point  of  reunion,  where  the 
labourers  who  want  employment  come  at  the  even- 
ing hour  to  make  contracts  for  the  next  day. 

Every  thing  in  the  hour  and  scene  was  of  a  quiet, 


DON    AMADEO.  295 

peaceful  character.  I  could  with  difficulty  believe 
that  this  gate,  not  many  years  before,  had  beheld 
the  furious  and  sanguinary  struggle  between  the 
headlong  Frenchmen  and  the  loyal  Aragonese  ;  or 
that,  in  more  distant  times,  on  the  very  spot  where  I 
stood,  the  faggot  had  been  kindled  for  the  helpless 
prey  of  the  Inquisition,  and  the  air  often  rang  with 
the  death-shrieks  of  its  victims. 


CHAP.   XVII. 


ZARAGOZA. 


AMONG  the  few  acquaintances  I  made  at  Zarago- 
za  was  a  young  scion  of  the  law,  one  Don  Amadeo 
Rivera,  who,  to  a  gay  disposition,  a  tolerable  share  of 
legal  knowledge,  and  those  man-of-the- world  man- 
ners which  are  characteristic  of  his  profession,  added 
an  ardent  love  of  liberty,  and  a  generous  sorrow  for 
the  fallen  fortunes  of  his  country.  In  this  last  re- 


296  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

spect  he  was  like  almost  all  young  Spaniards,  in  the 
middling  walks  of  life,  of  educated  and  thinking 
minds.  These  form  the  most  respectable  portion 
of  the  nation,  elevated  as  they  are  by  education 
above  the  benighted  peasantry,  and  superior,  in  all 
but  wealth  and  lordly  lineage,  to  the  degenerate  and 
besotted  nobility.  But,  unfortunately,  those  two  great 
component  parts  of  the  Spanish  population,  they  who 
are  too  ignorant  to  know  the  cause  of  their  own  mi- 
sery, and  those  who  are  wedded  to  despotism  by  the 
fear  of  having  their  titles  and  estates  snatched  from 
them  by  the  equalizing  hand  of  revolution,  so  far 
outnumber  the  disheartened  friends  of  freedom,  that 
they  can  do  no  more  than  indulge  in  secret  expecta- 
tions and  unavailing  regrets.  Patience  or  the  scaf- 
fold is  the  sad  alternative. 

Don  Amadeo,  coming  one  afternoon  to  smoke  his 
cigarillo  with  me,  opened  my  eyes  ^to  the  character 
and  accomplishments  of  the  worthy  Don  Ambrosio 
Salsareta.  He  was,  in  truth,  the  person  whom  I  have 
already  mentioned  as  having  once  emptied  his  pock- 
ets at  the  bidding  of  Don  Ambrosio.  The  latter, 
not  perhaps  supposing  that  the  unceremonious  flight 
of  a  few  score  of  ducats  from  Don  Amadeo's  purse  to 


DON    AMADEO. 


297 


his  own  could  have  awakened  any  suspicions  in  the 
lawyer's  mind,  had  that  very  morning  applied  to  him 
for  a  loan  of  money.  It  seems  that  the  old  fellow 
had  been  outwitted  in  his  own  trade  by  certain 
sharpers,  who  kept  a  thriving  monte  table  in  a  pri- 
vate and  genteel  way  at  Zaragoza,  and  of  which  the 
head  magician  was  a  black-eyed  dame,  of  winning 
manners  and  agreeable  person.  Hither  had  hied  the 
self-confident  Don  Ambrosio,  little  thinking  that, 
like  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheck  in  the  play,  he  should 
find  this  deceptive  Viola  as  '  cunning  in  fence'  as 
himself.  But  he  paid  dear  for  his  temerity ;  for 
they  stripped  him  doubloon  by  doubloon  down  to 
the  last  piece  in  his  purse ;  and  thus  the  hapless  gam- 
bler realized  but  too  bitterly  the  old  Spanish  saying 
of  "  coming  for  wool  and  going  away  shorn." 

As  Don  Amadeo  was  quite  contented  with  the  con- 
tribution he  had  already  made  to  Don  Ambrosio's 
purse,  he  found  some  plausible  pretext  for  declining 
the  loan,  and  now  cautioned  me  against  this  cavalier 
of  industry.  As  he  thought  I  might  find  more  agree- 
able lodgings  in  the  house  where  he  was  himself  liv- 
ing, I  went  with  him  to  see  his  landlord.  This  was 
a  little  tailor  in  the  street  of  the  Pack-saddle,  near  the 


298 


SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 


market-place.  By  much  industry  and  thrift  he  had 
gained  a  moderate  competency,  whereby  he  was  en- 
abled to  take  upon  himself  the  rent  of  a  tolerable 
house ;  in  which,  while  he  plied  the  needle  and 
shears  in  the  little  shop  below,  his  wife,  a  stirring 
body,  turned  a  penny  above  stairs  by  taking  lodgers. 
Her  rooms  had  been  usually  occupied  by  such  young 
literary  pilgrims  as  came  to  worship  at  the  antiqua- 
ted shrines  of  Latin  and  Metaphysics  in  the  Univer- 
sity of  Zaragoza.  But  as  that  establishment  was  now 
bolted  and  barred  by  the  jealousy  of  the  government, 
the  wife  of  the  Sastre  was  fain  to  receive  any  other 
strangers  who  offered.  Besides  my  friend  Don  Ama- 
deo,  she  had  another  young  lawyer,  and  a  family  of 
Mexicans,  who  had  been  driven  across  the  water  to 
the  home  of  their  ancestors  by  the  troubles  that  dis- 
tracted that  beautiful  but  ill-governed  country. 

I  found  my  future  host,  Sefior  Casimiro  Retazo,  a 
pale-faced  little  man,  whose  figure  wanted  the  sturdy 
stout-legged  proportions  of  the  Aragonese,  and  had 
doubtless  been  wasted  by  the  sedentary  confinement 
of  his  calling.  But  though  the  outward  man  seemed 
broken  down  by  a  too  diligent  devotion  to  the  goose 
and  needle,  it  had  not  affected  his  moral  constitution  ; 


LODGINGS  IN  ZARAGOZA.          299 

j 

for  he  overflowed  with  good  nature,  and  was  one  of 
the  most  civil,  laughter-loving  little  men  one  could 
see  any  where.  His  shop  was  not  a  very  spacious 
one,  and  seemed  built  on  the  same  proportions  as  its 
occupant :  it  was  hung  round  with  various  jackets, 
breeches,  and  cloaks,  in  different  stages  of  progress  ; 
while  for  ornament's  sake  were  displayed  at  inter- 
vals some  dusty  engravings  of  the  bull-fight,  and  also 
a  table  almanac,  upon  which  were  set  forth  the  days 
of  the  various  saints,  with  a  curious  statement  of  the 
religious  observances  to  be  kept  at  certain  times  and 
the  indulgences  to  be  thereby  obtained. 

Seiior  Casimiro  welcomed  Don  Amadeo's  return 
with  much  heartiness,  and  rising  from  his  stool,  pla- 
ced himself,  house,  and  household,  at  the  disposition 
of  the  stranger  cavalier  in  the  due  form  of  Spanish 
politeness.  Being  informed  of  my  errand,  he  called 
his  wife  as  assistant  counsel  in  the  case,  or  rather 
turned  over  the  whole  matter  to  her  superior  discre- 
tion. Dona  Margarita  accordingly  led  me  up  a  nar- 
row, antiquated  staircase,  whose  strange  turnings 
and  windings  spoke  volumes  for  the  ingenuity  of 
the  architect,  who  seemed  to  have  exhausted  his  craft 
in  setting  convenience  and  order  at  defiance.  We 


300  SCENES    IN   SPAIN. 

I 

at  length  arrived,  after  a  very  dark  and  roundabout 
journey,  at  the  second  story, where  the  hostess  ushered 
me  into  a  snug  little  apartment,  which  had  quite  an 
air  of  comfort  when  compared  with  the  desolate  di- 
mensions of  the  chamber  in  the  Fonda.     It  was  gar- 
nished with  a  goodly  store  of  rush-bottomed  chairs 
and  quaint  chests  of  drawers ;  two  or  three  saints 
smiled  in  coarse  woodcuts  from  their  curiously  carv- 
ed frames ;  and  the  miniature  corpse  of  Saint  Cathe- 
rine, done  in  wax-work,  with  her  nun's  smock,  her 
rosary  and  rope  girdle,  and  a  crucifix  on  her  bosom, 
quietly  reposed  beneath  a  glass  case  on  the  cupboard. 
I  liked  the  looks  both  of  my  landlady  and  the  room  ; 
and  when  Doila  Margarita  seconded  these  favourable 
impressions  by  the  promise  of  a  good  dinner,  con- 
sisting of  a  soup,  a  puchero,  with  its  manifold  repre- 
sentations of  the  animal  and  vegetable  creation,  and 
a  supplementary  hare  or  partridge,  I  closed  at  once 
with  her  proposition,  and  assured  her  I  should  be 
with  her  that  very  afternoon,  "  Cayga  que  cayga  ;" 
"  Come  what  come  may." 

Accordingly,  in  the  afternoon  I  delivered  my  bag- 
gage to  a  broad-shouldered  woman,  and  paid  my 
bill  to  the  slovenly  hostess,  who  rated  the  chamber- 


LODGINGS    IN   ZARAGOZA.  301 

maid  and  commended  me  to  the  protection  of  God 
all  in  the  same  breath.  I  also  took  an  affectionate 
farewell  of  Don  Ambrosio,  who  assured  me  he  was 
my  faithful  servant,  begged  I  would  command  him 
at  all  times,  and  wished  me  all  kinds  of  good  luck. 

I  had  no  reason  to  regret  my  change  of  domicil 
or  company.  Indeed.  I  presently  became  acquainted 
with  ail  the  inmates  of  the  house  from  top  to  bottom, 
down  to  a  quiet,  meditative  little  ass,  which  was  lodg- 
ed in  a  stable  quite  under  ground,  and  beneath  the 
kitchen  of  Dona  Margarita.  This  meek  and  unas- 
suming little  beast  had  rather  a  sinecure  office,  being 
only  led  forth  twice  a-day  by  the  kitchen  maid,  with 
three  or  four  large  earthen  jars  set  in  a  wooden  frame 
on  his  back  to  bring  water  from  a  fountain  near  the 
Ebro.  During  the  rest  of  the  day,  secure  from  the 
fleas  and  heat,  the  Capitan,  for  such  was  his  name, 
stood  demurely  in  his  stable,  looking  as  grave  as 
Archimedes  in  his  study.  These  subterranean  quar- 
ters he  shared  with  a  tall,  high-blooded  charger, 
beneath  whose  belly  he  might  have  walked  without 
touching  his  ears,  and  who  every  morning  bore  his 
master,  a  cavalry  colonel,  gaily  forth  to  muster  or 
parade.  Whether  the  diminutive  and  humble  Capi- 
26 


302  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

tan  felt  his  inferiority  in  rank  and  size  to  the  colonel's 
charger,  or  whether  nature  had  given  the  ass  but 
little  sympathy,  certain  it  was  that  there  appeared 
to  be  no  sociability  between  these  fellow-lodgers. 
The  horse  ate  his  barley  in  selfish  solitude  at  one 
end  of  the  dark  chamber,  and  Capitan  at  the  other 
munched  his  stingy  pittance  of  cut  straw  and  a 
pennyworth  of  refuse  greens,  envying,  if  envy  could 
enter  the  head  of  an  ass,  the  luxurious  repast  of  his 
more  favoured  companion. 

At  length  the  feast  day  of  the  Virgin,  the  constant 
theme  of  Dofia  Margarita's  praises  and  anticipations, 
drew  nigh.  The  eve  of  the  day  was  celebrated  with 
much  gaiety,  and  I  found  no  little  amusement  in 
looking  down  at  the  crowd  from  my  balcony,  or 
mingling  among  them  disguised  in  a  cloak  and  som- 
brero. The  narrow  street  of  the  Pack-saddle  was 
crowded  with  people;  for  nearly  opposite  Senor 
Casimiro's  shop  an  altar  was  erected  against  the  wall 
of  a  house,  upon  which  Was  placed  an  image  of 
the  Virgin  ;  her  garments  bespangled  with  finery,  her 
head  adorned  with  a  tinsel  crown,  and  her  counte- 
nance, which  did  but  little  credit  to  the  skill  of  the 
carver,  irradiated  by  the  light  of  many  lamps.  Be- 


FEAST    OP    THE    VIRGIN.  303 

neath  the  altar,  in  a  balcony,  a  band  of  musicians 
played  contradanzas,  waltzes,  and  lively  national 
airs,  among  which  the  Jota  of  the  Aragonese  seemed 
to  be  the  favourite.  A  crowd  of  people  was  con- 
stantly circulating  past  the  altar  through  the  street 
of  the  Pack-saddle,  by  the  market  place,  the  square 
of  Saint  Anthony,  and  so  by  the  street  of  the  Silver- 
smith towards  the  Church  of  the  Virgin.  As  I  fell 
in  with  the  current  and  passed  beneath  the  arched 
way  of  the  prison,  I  found  the  miserable  captives 
singing  at  the  top  of  their  lungs  to  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  the  crowd,  while  their  alms-gathering  bags 
circulated  with  unwonted  activity  between  the  ground 
and  the  gratings.  The  poor  creatures  were  shrouded 
in  darkness  ;  but  here  and  there,  at  the  windows,  the 
fire  of  a  cigarillo  showed  that  some  of  them  had 
found  means  to  purchase  that  darling  luxury  of  the 
Spaniard. 

Some  of  the  streets  through  which  the  grand  pro- 
cession was  to  pass  on  the  following  day  were  deco- 
rated with  lamps  displayed  in  the  balconies,  and 
many  of  them  with  transparencies,  the  impromptu 
efforts  of  untutored  hands,  representing  many  very 
queer,  and  sometimes  very  equivocal  subjects.  Each 


304  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

picture  had  its  explanatory  inscription,  and  occa- 
sionally both  the  painting  and  the  comment  were 
equally  indecent.  I  could  not  understand  the  state 
of  morals  that  could  permit  such  gross  exhibitions 
not  only  to  be  exposed  to  the  vulgar  gaze,  but  even 
to  stare  in  the  face,  on  the  morrow,  the  saintly  pro- 
cession of  priests,  monks,  and  friars,  nay,  the  image 
of  the  Blessed  Virgin.  It  was  probably  a  custom 
sanctioned  by  long  usage,  and  handed  down  from  a 
dark,  unpolished  age.  Some  of  these  daubs,  with- 
out having  the  fault  of  indecency,  had  some  preten- 
sions to  humour.  As,  for  instance,  one  in  which  a 
a  long-eared  donkey  stared  the  spectator  in  the  face, 
with  the  inscription,  "  Yo  soy  burro,  ya  somos  dos," 
— "  I  am  an  ass,  so  there's  a  pair  of  us." 

Entering  the  Church  of  the  Pillar,  I  found  a  great 
crowd  of  people  on  their  knees  before  the  altar  of 
the  venerated  Virgin,  praying  the  Salve.  They  were 
principally  of  the  lower  class,  and  the  majority  were 
women.  I  never  witnessed  more  profound  solemnity 
and  devotion  than  were  impressed  upon  the  counte- 
nances of  these  people  as  they  gazed  on  the  hallowed 
shrine.  However  the  Protestant  maybe  disposed  to 
say  to  the  Catholic  in  the  spirit  of  self-praise,  "  I  am 


FEAST    OP    THE    VIRGIN.  305 

wiser  and  more  sincere  than  thou  art,  and  my  notions 
of  religion  are  purified  from  the  gross  leaven  of  su- 
perstition," he  might  at  least  learn,  from  the  conduct 
of  the  Catholic  devotee  before  the  altar  of  his 
Saints,  a  lesson  of  at  least  apparent  contrition  arid 
humility. 

And  here  I  might  mention  a  very  singular  super- 
stition connected  with  the  shrine  of  the  Pillar,  and 
which  was  told  me  by  Dona  Margarita,  herself  a 
frequent  worshipper  there.  She  informed  me,  that  it 
is  forbidden  to  say  mass  before  that  particular  altar, 
and  that  if  any  one  transgressed  this  rule,  the  hand 
of  God  would  visit  the  offender  with  instant  death, 
an  example  of  which  had  once  happened.  Detect- 
ing in  my  countenance  a  lurking  expression  of  in- 
credulity, she  shook  her  head  with  a  serious  air, 
adding,  "  due  no  es  broma,  Seflor,  yo  lo  creo  bien," 
— "  'Tis  no  joke,  sir,  I  am  certain  of  it." 

As  the  people  passed  on  their  way  to  the  grand 
altar,  they  stopped  and  knelt  down  at  a  table,  where 
sat  a  priest,  having  in  his  hand  a  sacred  relic  with 
which  he  touched  the  faces  of  the  devout,  making 
with  it  the  sign  of  the  cross,  I  observed  many 
mothers  leading  young  children  by  the  hand,  or  bear- 
26* 


306  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

ing  their  infants  in  their  arms  to  be  blessed  by  this 
miraculous  relic.  It  was  probably  a  bone  of  some 
venerated  Saint. 

The  cathedral  of  the  Virgin  of  the  Pillar  bears 
no  comparison  in  dignity  and  impressiveness  of 
style  to  the  venerable  Gothic  pile  of  the  Aseo. 
Thither  I  have  often  gone,  at  the  twilight  hour 
of  the  Oracion,  to  gaze  with  a  certain  solemn, 
chastened  feeling  upon  the  gigantic  columns  and 
majestic  arches  of  that  noble  edifice,  obscurely 
lighted  by  a  few  faint  lamps  scattered  here  and 
there  before  the  shrines ;  the  stillness  and  solitude 
of  the  place  and  hour  being  broken  at  intervals  by 
the  deep-toned  chant  of  the  choir,  or  the  voice  of  a 
priest  faintly  heard  repeating  the  evening  prayer. 

In  this  stately  church  of  the  Aseo  is  an  image  of 
the  Saviour,  much  venerated,  and  which,  according 
to  the  account  of  my  good  landlady,  Dona  Margari- 
ta, whose  faith  on  these  subjects  was  unbounded, 
had  been  the  means  of  curing  as  many  maladies  as 
the  Virgin  of  the  Pillar,  though  never,  perhaps,  the 
source  of  so  wonderful  a  miracle  as  the  restoration 
of  the  long-lost  leg  to  that  pious  beggar,  Miguel 
Juan  Pellicero. 


PROCESSION    OF    THE    ROSARY.  307 

The  morning  of  the  day  of  the  Virgin  was  usher- 
ed in  by  the  procession  of  the  Rosario.  This  cere- 
mony is  a  peculiar  form  of  devotion  addressed  to  the 
Virgin.  It  consists,  say  the  divines,  of  fifteen  Pater 
Nosters,  or  repetitions  of  the  Lord's  prayer,  and  one 
hundred  and  fifty  salutations  of  the  Blessed  Virgin. 
The  learned  may,  perhaps,  one  day  decide  the  vexed 
question  of  the  institution  of  the  Rosario,  which  has 
given  the  heads  of  the  curious  as  much  trouble  as 
the  long-disputed  birthplace  of  the  blind  bard.  The 
subject,  as  yet,  is  left  in  as  indefinite  a  position  as 
the  coffin  of  the  prophet  hung  in  air  between  earth 
and  Heaven ;  for  some  attribute  its  institution  to 
Lebycas,  some  to  St.  Benedict,  some  support  with 
holy  fervour  the  pretensions  of  the  venerable  Bede ; 
and  others  will  have  it  that  all  these  pious  fathers 
of  the  church  must  give  place  to  that  pious  warrior, 
Peter  the  Hermit.  One  thing  is  certain,  that  the 
Rosary  has  been  for  many  long  centuries  a  hallowed 
observance  of  the  Spanish  devotee. 

The  procession  which  I  saw  on  this  occasion  at 
Zaragoza  was  headed  by  two  peasants  in  the  pic- 
turesque garb  of  Aragon,  bearing  silver  salvers  in 
their  hands,  wherein  were  received  the  contribu- 


308  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

tions  of  the  pious.  As  they  passed  along  there  were 
but  few  houses  from  which  some  one  did  not  come 
forth  with  an  eleemosynary  real  or  cuarto.  The  giv- 
ers of  alms  were  generally  women,  and  they  kissed 
the  coin  devoutly  before  laying  it  upon  the  dish, 
with  probably  a  secret  prayer  for  God's  blessing  on 
the  offering ;  for  these  alms  are  applied  in  saying 
masses  for  the  souls  of  those  who  give  them.  Next 
to  these  plate-bearers  came  musicians,  with  various 
instruments,  principally  the  trombone,  each  of  whom 
was  attended  by  a  ragged  urchin  who  bore  on  a 
board  the  music  of  the  Salve.  Then  came  a  curate 
in  ecclesiastical  robes,  who  was  followed  by  two 
bearers  of  standards,  on  one  of  which  was  repre- 
sented our  Lady  of  Carmel,  on  the  other  our  Lady 
of  the  Conception.  To  these  succeeded  the  bearers 
of  faroles,  or  lanterns,  curiously  adorned,  and  in  an 
antiquated  taste ;  the  procession  being  closed  by  a 
promiscuous  crowd  of  towns-people.  The  deep- 
toned  chant  of  the  priests  and  people,  the  succeeding 
death-like  silence,  the  solemn  sound  of  the  trom- 
bone, and  the  general  expression  of  devotion  visible 
in  the  countenances  of  the  worshippers  of  the  Vir- 
gin, gave  a  more  imposing  air  to  this  unpretending 


GIANTS    AND    DWARFS.  309 

procession  than  usually  marks  the  more  laboured 
and  gorgeous  displays  of  the  Church. 

The  streets  and  squares  of  Zaragoza  were  the 
scene  of  unwonted  life  and  bustle  all  day  long,  par- 
ticularly the  Square  of  the  Pillar,  where  a  motley 
rabble  had  assembled  to  gaze  at  a  strange  and  time- 
honoured  exhibition.  Three  huge  pasteboard  gi- 
ants, two  having  the  countenances  of  men  but  wear- 
ing a  feminine  garb  consisting  of  flowing  robes  of 
calico,  and  one  whose  beardless  face  and  dangling 
locks  bespoke  the  softer  sex,  stalked  about  on  the 
shoulders  of  men  snugly  hid  beneath  their  robes 
and  petticoats,  so  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  figures 
themselves  possessed  life  and  action.  These  colos- 
sal worthies  were  escorted  by  several  enanos,  or 
dwarfs,  made,  too,  of  pasteboard,  and  similarly  at- 
tired ;  so  that  the  person  concealed  beneath  seemed 
part  of  the  figure  itself.  They  had  big  deformed 
heads,  hideous  staring  eyes,  and  a  wide  open 
mouth  of  unnatural  dimensions,  through  which  the 
bearer  of  the  image  reconnoitered,  like  the  steel-clad 
warrior  through  the  sight-holes  of  his  helmet,  and 
so  picked  his  way  through  the  crowd. 

The  boys,  those  urchins  so  prone  to  mischief  all 


310  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

the  world  over,  treated  the  giants  with  great  respect 
in  consideration  of  their  awful  stature  and  command- 
ing air  ;  but  the  luckless  dwarfs  they  greeted  with 
shouts  and  whistling,  and  pelted  with  melon  rinds. 
These  disrespectful  salutations  the  dwarfs  received, 
with  much  gravity  and  resignation,  patiently  front- 
ing the  offenders,  and  receiving  the  missiles  on  their 
pasteboard  skulls,  which  were  a  much  more  effec- 
tual guard  against  these  innocent  weapons  than  the 
frail  paper  visor  of  Don  Quixote  against  the  sturdy 
blows  of  the  choleric  Biscayan.  But  ever  and  anorn 
the  dwarf  would  forget  his  passive  fortitude,  and 
gathering  up  his  calico  petticoats  to  leave  his  legs 
unembarrassed,  would  start  in  pursuit  of  the  near- 
est offender.  Whereupon  the  whole  rabble  rout 
would  take  to  their  heels,  and  leaving  the  devil  01 

the  dwarf  to  take   the   hindmost,  scamper  wildly 

• 

across  the  Plaza.  If  the  dwarf  succeeded  in  catch- 
ing any  of  them,  he  rewarded  him  by  a  good  thump- 
ing with  his  pasteboard  head ;  a  retribution  which 
made  more  noise  than  it  did  damage,  and  which,  I 
observed,  he  inflicted  on  such  of  the  peasants  as  per- 
versely refused  to  give  him  alms.  But  the  boys, 
no  wise  discouraged  by  such  examples  of  wrath, 


THE    GRAND    PROCESSION.  311 

returned  to  the  attack  with  hootings  and  melon 
rinds  as  soon  as  his  back  was  turned,  and  hovered, 
like  so  many  bush-fighting  Indians,  on  the  flanks 
and  rear  of  the  receding  enemy. 

I  was  unable  to  get  any  satisfactory  reply  to  my 
inquiries  about  the  origin  of  this  singular  accompa- 
niment of  the  festivities  of  the  Virgin.  In  the  time 
of  the  Constitution  this  strange  and  ridiculous  exhi- 
bition was  abolished  ;  but  after  the  downfall  of  that 
short-lived  domination,  the  authorities,  who  knew, 
and  were  shrewd  enough  to  encourage,  the  attach- 
ment of  the  rabble  to  their  ancient  customs,  restored 
them  their  lost  dwarfs  and  giants. 

In  the  afternoon  every  one  was  on  the  alert  to  see 
the  grand  procession  of  the  Yirgin.  Each  pious 
housewife  had  duly  decorated  her  balconies  with 
drapery,  usually  the  gayest  bed-quilt  her  house  af- 
forded :  or,  if  her  establishment  was  on  a  more  luxu- 
rious scale,  with  hangings  of  silk  or  damask.  This 
is  not  a  gratuitous  display,  it  being  required  that 
this  mark  of  respect  should  be  exhibited  in  all  the 
streets  through  which  the  procession  passes.  Per- 
haps an  account  of  the  procession,  the  order  in 
which  it  went,  and  the  motley  costumes  which  were 


312  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

displayed  in  it,  may  be  interesting  to  the  curious 
reader. 

The  procession  was  headed  by  a  standard  borne  by 
an  idiot  from  the  mad-house,  who  was  followed  by  six 
male  and  as  many  female  unfortunates  labouring  un- 
der the  same  hopeless  infirmity.  The  men  were  clothed 
in  garments  of  green  and  brown,  with  spatterdashes 
reaching  to  the  knee  of  the  colour  of  ashes ;  the  idiot 
women  also  wore  garments  of  the  same  colours  as 
those  of  the  men,  and  on  the  head  a  gauze  cap  of  an- 
tique fashion.  These  were  followed  by  the  foundling 
boys  dressed  as  friars,  and  the  foundlinggirls  attired  as 
nuns  of  the  order  of  the  Franciscan  Philippines.  Next 
came  the  sacristans  of  the  various  parishes,  bearing 
large  wax  tapers,  folio  wed  by  one  who  bore  the  great 
candlestick  of  the  Pillar,  escorted  by  mace-bearers 
clad  in  white,  and  with  long  robes  of  white  damask, 
who  carried  on  their  shoulders  massive  maces  of  sil- 
ver. Then  came  the  order  of  the  Shod  Trinitarians, 
wearing  brown  cloaks  and  white  tunics,  with  a  par- 
ti-coloured cross  of  blue  and  flesh-coloured  cloth  on 
the  left  breast.  After  these  followed  the  friars  of 
Saint  Anthony,  clad  all  in  black  :  and  then  the  Capu- 
chins, with  brown  tunic  and  cowl,  a  very  large  hood 


THE    GRAND    PROCESSION.  313 

and  with  beards  unshorn  descending  to  their  breasts. 
These  were  followed  by  the  bare-footed  Carmelites, 
whose  dress  is  the  same  as  that  of  those  who  go  shod, 
except  that  they  wear  no  stockings,  for  they  have 
abandoned  the  uncomfortable  and  self-mortifying 
fashion  of  leaving  the  foot  wholly  unprotected. 
Then  came  the  Augustins,  clad  in  black,  and  differing 
only  from  those  of  St.  Anthony  in  that  the  former 
wear  a  very  capacious  hood ;  next  the  Franciscan 
Philippines,  with  tunics  of  sky-blue  cloth,  who  were 
folio  wed  by  the  Carmelites  in  brown  tunics  and  white 
cloaks.  After  these  came  the  wax  candle  of  the  Ca- 
thedral, borne  by  the  sacristan,  who  was  accompanied 
by  six  lads  dressed  as  monks.  Then  followed  the 
friars  of  the  order  of  Mercy,  clad  in  a  white  cloak  and 
tunic,  and  the  Dominicans  with  black  cloaks  and 
white  tunics ;  the  latter,  the  richest  order  of  all  that 
have  been  enumerated.  Each  fraternity  of  friars 
was  closed  by  one  or  two  bearing  consecrated  relics. 
Then  followed  the  curates  with  vestments  of  tissue 
of  gold,  embroidered  with  flowers  of  silver ;  next 
the  image  of  the  Virgin,  which  stands  at  the  altar  of 
the  canons,  borne  by  eight  ordenados,  or  newly  or- 
dained clergymen.  Behind  was  carried  the  ample 

27 


314 


SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 


canopy  of  tissue  of  silver  with  flowers  of  gold  ;  at 
its  side,  and  following  it,  were  canons  in  their  sacred 
vestments.  These  again  were  followed  by  the  mace- 
bearers  of  the  city,  in  robes  of  white  damask,  with 
gilded  maces,  preceding  the  civil  authorities  and  the 
Captain  General  of  Zaragoza  and  the  province,  who 
was  supported  on  either  side  by  the  Intendente  of  the 
Police  and  the  chief  officer  of  the  royal  estates.  The 
whole  procession  was  closed  by  individual  devotees, 
and  an  undistinguished  rabble  of  grown  people  and 
children. 


CHAP.    XVIII. 

JOURNEY   TO    BARCELONA. 

IT  was  with  some  regret  that  I  left  the  venera- 
ble city  of  Zaragoza.  My  feelings  had  been  from 
the  first  drawn  towards  her  with  a  sort  of  reveren- 
tial respect,  by  the  recollection  of  the  glorious  patriot- 
ism and  stoical  endurance  of  her  children.  There 
was  to  me  something  more  attractive  in  her  shat- 


DEPARTURE    FROM   ZARAGOZA.  315 

tered  convents  and  ruinous  churches,  and  in  the 
thousand  traces  of  violence  which  the  destroying 
hand  of  war  had  left  in  her  time-worn  streets,  than 
in  the  splendour  of  many  European  cities  still  in  the 
freshness  and  spring-time  of  their  existence.  Asso- 
ciation hallowed  her  decay ;  so  that,  though  fallen 
and  desolate,  I  approached  her  with  the  sort  of  feeling 
with  which  one  might  gaze  on  the  mangled  and 
prostrate  form  of  a  stout  and  true-hearted  veteran, 
who,  though  vanquished,  had  died  manfully,  sword 
in  hand,  and  with  his  face  to  the  enemy.  Besides 
this  sort  of  gratification  drawn  from  recollections  of 
the  past,  I  found  my  time  agreeably  whiled  away  by 
the  bustling  festivities  of  the  Virgin,  the  gorgeous 
processions,  the  whimsical  sports  of  the  dwarfs  and 
giants,  and  the  manlier  though  bloody  exhibitions  of 
the  Amphitheatre.  For  my  good-natured  little  host, 
too,  Don  Casimiro  and  his  humble  household,  I  had 
begun  to  feel  a  friendly  regard,  and  was  half  loth  to 
leave  the  hospitable  roof  of  the  Sastre,  the  little 
chamber  whose  quaint  old  furniture  had  grown  fa- 
miliar, and  my  acquaintance,  Don  Amadeo,  to  turn 
myself  out,  as  it  were,  on  the  highway,  with  no 
friend  or  companion  whatever, 


316  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

It  was  before  dawn  on  the  day  of  the  good  Saint 
Teresa,  that  I  took  my  departure  for  Barcelona. 
The  sereno,  who  kept  watch  in  the  street  of  the  Pack- 
saddle,  came  by  previous  appointment  to  wake  me 
about  two  o'clock,  and  I  left  my  lodgings  by  a  fine 
starlight,  to  go  to  the  office  of  the  diligence.  I  had 
previously  despatched  my  baggage  to  be  duly  weighed 
and  registered,  and  now  sought  my  way  alone 
through  the  silent  and  deserted  streets.  The  traces 
of  the  destroying  siege  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
broad  street  of  the  Coso,  which  had  filled  me  with  a 
certain  melancholy  interest  when  I  first  saw  them 
by  the  light  of  noon -day,  did  not  fail  to  call  up  the 
same  chilling  recollections  as  now  seen,  in  their  ru- 
inous grandeur,  by  the  doubtful  starlight,  and  in  the 
dead  silence  of  the  night.  How  different  this  still- 
ness and  solitude  from  the  tumultuous  din  of  arms, 
and  the  thousand  horrors  of  that  ever-memorable 
siege,  when  even  in  the  night  the  enemy  plied  the 
work  of  destruction  by  the  lurid  light  of  the  burn- 
ing city,  and  the  treacherous  mine  too  often  roused 
the  miserable  townsman  from  his  feverish  repose 
only  to  consign  him  to  the  sleep  of  death. 


• 


DEPARTURE    FROM    ZARAGOZA.  317 

Not  a  creature  was  now  stirring  save  the  sentinel 
in  steel  helmet,  and  sabre  dragging  lazily  over  the 
pavements,  who  paced  slowly  up  and  down  before 
the  portal  of  the  Audiencia ;  or  the  watchful  sereno, 
who,  with  a  short  pike  in  one  hand  and  a  lantern  in 
the  other,  was  walking  his  lonely  rounds  singing 
now  and  then  the  hour  of  the  night  at  the  top  of  his 
voice. 

I  had  almost  reason  to  regret  having  started  alone, 
not,  however,  on  account  of  robbers  or  cut-throats ; 
for  the  former  commit  their  depredations  in  the 
early  part  of  the  night,  and  that  very  rarely  in  Za- 
ragoza ;  and  as  for  the  latter,  they  would  be  hard  to 
find.  Now  and  then  the  lower  classes  fight  duels 
with  their  knives,  and  on  the  high-road  murders 
for  revenge  are  not  unfrequent ;  yet,  as  far  as  I 
could  learn  the  character  of  the  Zaragozians,  though 
turbulent,  riotous,  and  unconquerable,  they  are  not 
much  given  to  treachery.  But,  as  I  was  going  to 
say,  for  want  of  a  guide  I  lost  my  way  in  the  crooked 
narrow  streets,  and  came  near  losing  my  passage. 
When,  after  much  difficulty,  I  arrived  at  the  office 
of  the  diligence,  the  grumbling  mayoral  mounted 
his  seat  forthwith,  and  the  zagal,  whip  in  hand, 

27* 


318  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

soon  set  our  mules  in  motion,  whooping  and  halloo- 
ing with  the  wonted  vivacity  of  his  class. 

Taking  one  of  the  leading  mules  by  the  bridle,. 
he  conducted  the  rumbling  diligence  with  great 
dexterity  through  many  narrow  and  crooked  streets 
towards  the  Gate  of  the  Sun,  thence  across  the 
bridge  of  Saint  Joseph,  after  passing  which  we  were 
fairly  on  the  high-road  to  Barcelona. 

When  the  morning  dawned  I  found  myself 
some  leagues  from  "  the  very  noble,  loyal,  and  he- 
roic city  of  Zaragoza,"  and  in  a  country  so  thinly 
peopled  and  so  miserably  cultivated,  that,  with  the 
exception  of  a  wo-begone  village  here  and  there,  it 
seemed  a  mere  waste.  'Tis  true,  that  in  most  parts 
of  Spain,  in  getting  a  mile  or  two  from  the  security 
of  the  town,  you  leave  behind  the  marks  of  indus- 
try and  cultivation ;  yet  the  province  of  Aragon 
seemed  to  me  even  more  desolate  than  any  I  had 
traversed.  I  asked  the  mayoral  why  the  people  did 
not  plant  vines  and  olives,  and  till  this  wilderness, 
the  soil  being  apparently  well  adapted  for  such  pro- 
ductions. "  Because,"  said  he,  "  the  sheep  would 
eat  them  and  the  peasants  rob  one  another."  He 
was  an  ignorant  fellow,  and  too  blind,  like  all  of  the 


INDICATIONS    OP    POVERTY.  319 

lower  classes  in  Spain,  to  know  the  true  reason  of 
the  national  idleness  and  poverty  so  strongly  dis- 
played in  the  sad  country  we  were  traversing.     A 
number  of  these  poor  peasants  of  Aragon  were  col- 
lected at  a  hovel  where  we  stopped  to  change  the 
mules.     Their  athletic  frames  and  manly  bearing 
seemed  deserving  of  a  better  attire  than  the  miser- 
able blankets  and  rags  in  which  they  were  wrapped. 
It  was  a  mute  but  bitter  reproach  to  that  despotism 
which  has  made  Spain  a  land  of  paupers.     It  is  a 
common  topic  with  every  civilized  nation  to  up- 
braid the  laziness  of  the  Spaniard ;  let  us  rather  de- 
nounce the  cruel  cause  than  the  unhappy  effect.   In 
our  prosperous  country,  where  the  subtle  spirit  of 
enterprise  seems  infused  into  the  very  atmosphere 
we  breathe,  so  that  all  is  bustle,  and  energy,  and  life, 
one   would    awaken  the    incredulity    of   half   his 
hearers  who  should  tell  of  a  land  blessed  by  nature 
with  a  fertile  soil  and  a  kind  climate,  yet  inhabited 
by  a  nation  of  beggars.     Let  us  pity  but  not  re- 
proach them.     Take  from  us  those  moral  causes, 
whose  beneficence  is  far  above  the  choicest  advan- 
tages with  which  a  kind  nature  has  so  bountifully 
blessed  us,  take  from  us  the  laws  that  guard  life  and 


320  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

liberty,  and  property,  the  education  that  awakens 
the  energies  of  the  mind  to  vigorous  action,  the  spirit 
of  improvement  that  covers  our  country  with  roads, 
canals,  and  railways ;  I  say  take  away  all  these, 
and  how  soon  would  not  an  industrious,  intelligent, 
and  thriving  people  relapse,  like  these  poor  peasants, 
into  indolence,  ignorance,  and  want ;  and  our  coun- 
try, that  now  teems  with  fertility,  into  the  wilder- 
ness our  fathers  found  it  7 

The  towns  and  villages  through  which  we  passed 
from  time  to  time  showed  the  vestiges  of  the  destroy- 
ing march  of  the  French  in  the  war  of  Independence  ; 
houses  blown  up,  and  churches  and  convents  torn 
to  pieces,  the  melancholy  ruins  still  standing  in  the 
very  same  state  that  the  invaders  left  them.  Irritated, 
by  the  indomitable  obstinacy  of  the  Aragonese,  the 
invading  armies  often  vented  their  spleen  in  acts  of 
wanton  violence ;  and  thus  one  might  trace  their 
course  through  the  province,  like  that  of  a  whirlwind 
in  our  western  forests,  by  the  destruction  they  had 
left  behind  them.  Such  was  the  case  in  the  little 
town  of  Bujaroz,  where  we  stopped  to  get  our  din- 
ner of  stewed  hare  and  olla  podrida.  The  people 
do  not  clear  away  nor  rebuild  these  ruins ;  for  the 


ENTRANCE    INTO    CATALONIA.  321 

spirit  of  improvement  is  dead  among  them,  and  a 
declining  population  requires  no  increase  of  habita- 
tions, being  contented  to  live  in  miserable  hovels 
that  are  ready  to  tumble  to  the  ground. 

I  remarked,  just  before  we  entered  this  pueblo,  an 
ill-clad  custom-house  officer  sitting  on  a  rock  by  the 
way-side,  smoking  paper  cigars  and  guarding  the 
revenue.  A  contrabandista  would  have  had  but 
little  trouble  with  this  starveling  functionary.  A 
few  rials  or  a  little  tobacco  would  doubtless  have 
admitted  an  ass  load  of  contraband  to  the  freedom 
of  the  pueblo. 

There  was  a  refreshing  change  in  the  appearance 
of  things  as  we  passed  into  the  province  of  Catalo- 
nia, for  we  had  not  long  crossed  the  frontier  of  Ara- 
gon,  when  the  symptoms  of  industry  began  to  dis- 
cover themselves.  Bordering  on  the  sea,  and  with 
some  chance  of  finding  a  market  for  the  produce, 
which  is  denied  to  the  interior  provinces  by  the  cruel 
neglect  of  the  government,  the  Catalans  have  a 
disposition  to  labour,  even  in  spite  of  the  misrule  to 
which,  like  the  rest  of  Spain,  they  are  subjected. 
They  have,  like  the  other  provinces,  to  pay  heavy 
contributions  to  the  starving  state  and  the  rapacious 


322  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

church  ;  yet  a  little,  after  all,  is  left  to  themselves,  and 
this  little  rouses  them  to  exertion.  Every  body 
seemed  on  the  alert.  The  men  were  either  plough- 
ing or  bringing  in  the  vintage  in  wooden  tubs  set  on 
the  backs  of  mules  or  borricos,  their  garments  stained, 
and  their  naked  legs  and  arms  red  with  the  juice  of 
the  grape.  The  women  were  out  before  their  huts 
making  ropes,  and  the  children  were  scattered  along 
the  highway  gathering  manure  in  wicker  baskets. 

The  Catalans  are  noted  in  Spain  for  their  stirring, 
indefatigable  disposition,  a  peculiarity  well  described 
in  the  following  lines.  I  know  not  who  may  be  the 
author  of  them,  but  I  remember  buying  the  ballad 
that  contained  them  from  a  poor  blind  man  at  the 
Gate  of  the  Sun  in  Madrid. 

El  Catalan  bullicioso 
Carrasqueno  y  rmvigante 
Mercador  y  fabricante 
Jamas  vive  con  reposo  : 
En  un  pais  escabroso 
A  costa  de  mil  afanes 
Marca  tierras,  hace  planes, 
Y  aunque  sea  en  un  establo, 
Al  fin  por  parte  del  diablo 
Hace  de  las  piedras  panes. 

The  dress  of  the  Catalans,  though  in  some  respects 


CATALAN    COSTUME.  323 

picturesque,  is  on  the  whole  not  graceful.  They 
wear  a  long  red  woollen  cap  that  fits  tightly  round  the 
head,  and  dangles  half  way  down  the  back ;  a  little 
short  jacket  that  comes  about  half  way  to  the  waist, 
and  is  studded  with  gilt  buttons,  or  sometimes  silk 
loups  ;  breeches,  a  stocking  without  a  foot,  a  hemp- 
en sandal,  and  a  blue  or  red  sash  round  the  loins. 

A  great  many  peasants  and  villagers  in  this  cos- 
tume were  assembled  to  witness  the  arrival  of  the 
diligence  at  the  inn  of  Igualada.  The  horrid  and  to 
me  unintelligible  jargon  of  these  Catalans  grated 
unpleasantly  on  my  ears  after  being  used  to  the  so- 
norous Castilian,  or  the  soft-lisping  accent  of  Anda- 
lusia. They  speak  a  bastard  language,  which  seems 
to  be  a  jumble  of  French,  Italian,  Spanish,  and  per- 
haps other  tongues  ;  but  with  a  harshness  of  accent 
more  worthy  of  a  northern  latitude  than  of  the  soft 
and  sunny  clime  of  the  Mediterranean. 

Here  we  sat  down  to  a  savoury  supper,  for  which 
a  long  day's  journey  had  amply  prepared  us.  But 
though  willing  to  make  allowances  for  the  calls  of 
hunger,  I  could  not  but  observe  the  deficiency  of  the 
Catalans  in  that  courtesy  so  generally  characteristic 
of  Spanish  manners.  Many  of  them,  though  very 


324  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

decent  people,  showed  a  boorishness  and  inattention 
to  the  comfort  of  others  which  one  would  never  see 
even  in  the  most  miserable  venta  and  among  the 
poorest  muleteers  of  Castile  or  Andalusia.  There, 
even  the  poor  reaper,  when  he  sits  down,  weary  with 
the  day's  labour,  to  a  starveling  meal  of  gaspacho, 
always  invites  the  bystanders  to  share  his  repast,  and 
eats  his  pittance  with  a  certain  gentleman-like  delibe- 
rateness. 

Among  our  passengers  was  a  Catalan  priest,  who, 
as  usual,  wore  a  cloak,  cassock,  and  a  huge  hat, 
which  he  had  much  ado  to  accommodate  in  the 
crowded  diligence.  He  was  not  a  little  conspicuous 
for  his  attention  to  his  bodily  welfare  whenever  we 
sat  down  to  our  puchero,  nor  at  all  averse  to  the 
strong  wine  of  Catalonia.  Yet  I  must  do  him  the 
justice  to  say  that  he  never  drank  too  much  of  it,  and 
that  he  was  not  inattentive  to  his  spiritual  duties. 
They  put  me  to  sleep  in  the  same  room  with  him  at 
the  Fonda  of  Igualada,  and  he  awoke  me  a  good  half 
hour  before  the  time  appointed  for  our  departure, 
saying  his  prayers  in  Latin  out  of  a  black  breviary 
by  the  light  of  an  old-fashioned  iron  lamp. 

I  arrived  safely  at  Barcelona  after  a  two  days' 


ARRIVAL    AT    BARCELONA.  325 

journey.  We  rattled  over  the  heavy  drawbridge 
which  spans  the  moat,  and  halted  just  without  the 
wall  at  the  Gate  of  the  Angel.  Here  our  baggage 
was  rummaged  by  the  inquisitive  aduaneros,  and  our 
passports  delivered  to  an  officer  of  the  police.  As 
the  mayoral  was  getting  down  our  effects  from  the 
top  of  the  diligence,  I  had  leisure  to  copy  an  inscrip- 
tion beneath  a  picture  over  the  gate,  which  borders 
a  little  on  the  marvellous.  Literally  translated,  it 
runs  thus,  "  Saint  Vicente  Ferrer,  entering  through 
this  gate  in  the  year  1398,  saw  an  angel  upon  it,  to 
whom  he  said,  '  Angel  of  God,  what  are  you  doing 
here  ?'  whereunto  he  replied,  i  I  am  guarding  Bar- 
celona by  the  order  of  the  Most  High.' "  So  much 
for  the  veracity  of  the  Saint  and  the  credulity  of 
the  faithful. 


28 


326 


CHAP.    XIX. 

BARCELONA. 

BARCELONA  is  one  of  the  fines  towns  in  Spain, 
and  will  well  bear  a  comparison  with  Cadiz  or  Ma- 
drid. The  private  dwellings  in  the  modern  part  of 
the  city  are  very  large  and  neat,  and  the  public  edi- 
fices are  erected  on  an  imposing  scale.  It  has, 
among  others,  two  or  three  noble  Gothic  churches  ; 
a  style  of  building  which  always  afforded  me  a  de- 
gree of  gratification  rarely  inspired  by  a  more  clas- 
sic architecture.  It  is  with  a  certain  chastened,  so- 
lemn enthusiasm  that  one  wanders  through  those 
vast  temples  so  well  suited  to  the  worship  of  Omni- 
potence :  and,  by  the  light  which  comes  so  mellowed 
and  softened  through  the  stained  windows,  admires 
those  bold  columns  and  gigantic  arches,  which  seem 
destined  to  endure  till  mankind  shall  no  longer  adore 
Him  in  sanctuaries  built  by  human  art. 

The  most  interesting  of  the  churches  of  Barcelona 
is  the  Cathedral,  which  is  a  very  old  and  venerable  edi- 
fice. Here  I  noticed  some  superstitious  caprices  which 


CATHEDRAL    OP    BARCELONA.  327 

were  very  odd.  In  the  little  chapel  of  our  Lady  of 
Montserrat  there  is  an  image  of  the  Virgin  holding 
the  Child  in  her  arms,  both  of  whom  are  as  black  as 
the  veriest  negro  of  Guinea.  Why  they  chose  to  give 
the  wooden  child  and  mother  so  unseemly  a  com- 
plexion I  do  not  know,  but  doubtless  the  matter 
has  its  history  and  reason.  Our  Lady  of  Montser- 
rat is  a  distinguished  abogada,  venerated  in  a  rich 
convent  established  for  her  worship  and  the  comfort 
of  certain  friars  on  the  sterile  summit  of  that  wild 
mountain.  A  board  hung  up  near  the  shrine  in- 
formed the  devotee  that  he  might  gain  an  indul- 
gence of  forty  days  by  saying  a  Pater  Noster  before 
this  image,  a  privilege  which  the  Pope  has  extended 
to  the  shrines  of  all  the  other  saints  in  the  Cathedral. 
Below  the  noble  old  organ  was  suspended  a  huge 
and  deformed  head,  with  a  great  gaping  mouth  and 
staring  eyes.  On  certain  festivals  this  head  was 
made,  by  some  concealed  machinery,  to  yawn  with 
its  mouth  and  roll  its  eyes  for  the  diversion  of  the 
children  and  other  simple  people ;  but,  as  my  cice- 
rone, the  monje  custos,  informed  me,  this  strange 
practice  has  been  discontinued  for  a  few  years  past 
on  account  of  the  indecent  merriment  it  occasioned. 


328 


SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 


The  hideous  head  still,  however,  retains  its  conspi- 
cuous station,  and  looks  down  with  vacant  stare 
upon  the  worshippers  assembled  beneath. 

Among  the  other  wonders  of  the  Cathedral  my 
conductor  called  my  attention  with  much  gravity  to 
a  wooden  image  of  the  Saviour  on  the  cross,  which 
is  famed  for  a  miraculous  incident  in  the  battle  of 
Lepanto.  It  had  been  placed  on  the  poop  of  the 
Christian  commander's  galley,  and  from  its  con- 
spicuous station  presently  became  the  mark  of  the 
infidel  Turks.  One  ball  having  been  too  truly  aim- 
ed, the  image,  by  bending  its  body,  dodged  the 
shot ;  and  the  attitude  which  it  then  assumed  it  still 
retains,  to  the  wonder  of  the  numerous  devotees  who 
gather  round  the  little  chapel  to  say  the  Pater 
Noster,  rosary  in  hand.  In  the  cloisters  is  a  small 
chapel  dedicated  to  the  service  of  various  saints, 
among  whom  was  Santa  Lucia,  the  advocate  of 
those  afflicted  with  sore  eyes,  as  was  shown  by 
numerous  votive  eyes  of  wax  hung  up  there.  It 
happened  to  be  the  day  of  the  Eleven  Thousand 
Virgins,  as  the  almanac  arid  the  diario  of  Barcelona 
duly  set  forth.  Santa  Lucia  being  one  of  these  Ele- 
ven Thousand  Virgins,  a  number  of  old  women, 


DEPARTURE  FOR  FRANCE.         329 

who  had,  perhaps,  found  relief  from  affliction 
through  her  intercession,  were  gathered  round  the 
steps  of  the  shrine  engaged  in  serious  prayer. 

After  spending  a  week  very  agreeably  in  Barce- 
lona, I  started  one  morning  before  the  peep  of  day  in. 
the  diligence  for  the  French  frontier.  The  country, 
like  the  other  parts  of  Catalonia,  was  industriously 
cultivated,  and  decent  villages  were  scattered  here 
and  there  at  little  intervals.  Over  the  doors  of  the 
houses  might  be  seen  little  woodcuts  of  the  Virgin 
or  the  Saviour,  and  occasionally  inscriptions  in 
large  characters  of  "  Ave  Maria  purisima  !  sin  pe- 
cado  concebida  ;"  '<  Hail  Mary  most  pure  !  conceived 
without  sin."  The  road  ran  for  a  long  distance 
along  the  shore  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  we  saw  a 
great  many  hardy  fishermen,  a  class  whose  labours 
are  of  great  value  to  the  province  of  Catalonia,  dry- 
ing their  nets  upon  the  beach,  or  drawing  the  reluc- 
tant seine  with  its  unlucky  prisoners  from  the  wa- 
ter. In  the  interior  of  the  diligence  were  three  friars, 
whom,  by  the  muddy,  brown  colour  of  their  garments, 
I  judged  to  be  of  the  order  of  the  Carmelites.  They 
were  dressed  in  a  sort  of  gown  or  sack,  of  coarse  brown 
serge,  having  a  large  hood  hanging  down  behind, 
28* 


330  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

and  confined  round  the  waist  by  a  leathern  girdle, 
the  ends  of  which  reached  to  their  feet.  They  had 
also  hempen  sandals  and  naked  feet,  which  beto- 
kened that  they  were  of  the  order  of  the  Carmelitas 
descalzos.  For  of  these  Carmelites  there  are  two 
sorts  ;  those  who  wear  shoes,  and  those  who  ought, 
by- the  strict  rules  of  their  order,  to  go  unshod,  but 
who  make  a  compromise  with  their  consciences  by 
covering  the  sole  of  the  foot  and  toes  with  a  hempen 
sandal. 

My  companion  in  the  coupe  of  the  diligence  was 
quite  a    different  looking  personage.      His   black 
stock  that  kept  his  chin  high  in  the  air,  his  cloth 
cap  with  silver  embroidery  on  the  front,   his  close- 
buttoned  surtout  with  an  epaulette  strap  on  either 
shoulder,  his  mustaches  two  inches  long,  and,  inde- 
pendent of  all  this,  his  martial  air,  bespoke  the  sol- 
dier.    Though  a  very  manly  looking  fellow,  he  was 
very  sad  and  out  of  sorts  ;  a  tertian  had  taken  hold  of 
him  some  weeks  before  at  the  fortress  where  he  was 
stationed,  and  he  was  now  going  to  Gerona  for  the 
sake  of  change  of  air,  leaving  a  third  of  the  garri- 
son in  the  same  predicament. 

Towards  sunset  we  descended  into  a  fertile  valley, 


FORTRESS    OP    GERONA.  331 

and  saw  at  a  distance  a  hill  crowned  by  an  exten- 
sive fortress,  which  looked  down  protectingly  upon 
the  little  town  of  Gerona.     It  was  the  hour  of  the 
paseo  or  evening  promenade ;  and  as  we  drew  near  we 
found  the  inhabitants  taking  the  air  without  the  city 
gate.  Among  the  group  figured  the  universal  curate  ; 
the  student,  too,  hid  to  the  eye-brows  in  his  slovenly 
capeless  cloak,  friars  of  all  sorts  and  colours,  black, 
white,  blue  and  gray,  like  the  spirits  invoked  by 
Macbeth's  witches,  children  guarded  by  their  nurses, 
and  young  mischievous-looking  damsels,  followed 
by  their  Argus-eyed  duennas ;  while  lounging  officers 
were  scattered  in  groups  under  the  trees,  and  busy 
washerwomen,  squatting  beside  the   stream  which 
skirted  the  walk,  were  beating  dirty  clothes  clean  with 
flat  sticks.    Into  this  stream  we  presently  drove  ;  the 
mules  splashed  through  at  a  gallop,  and  we  entered 
the  town  by  a  heavy  stone  portal  decorated  with  an 
ancient  coat  of  arms,  the  bearings  of  the  king,  or 
perhaps  of  some  long-forgotten  lord  of  the  soil  and 
the    city.      This    was  that  Gerona  which  in    the 
war  of  independence  made  so  desperate  a  resistance 
to  the  French,  and  only  capitulated  when  starva- 
tion stared  the  garrison  in  the  face.     It  was  a  dear- 


332  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

bought  bargain  ;  for  the  French  lost  many  thousand 
men  under  the  walls. 

Here  we  passed  the  night,  and  the  next  morning 
found  us  in  Junquera,  where  the  diligence  halted  to 
have  the  baggage  and  passports  of  the  passengers 
examined.  In  a  fit  of  perverseness  I  determined 
to  give  no  bribe  to  the  hirelings  of  the  custom-house, 
and  consequently  had  my  trunk  well  rummaged .  The 
principal  aduanero  was  impertinent  enough  to  look 
at  my  papers,  and  put  on  a  very  grave  face  as  he 
opened  a  sort  of  log  book  of  my  travels.  It  was 
filled  from  one  end  to  the  other  with  blasphemies 
against  his  political  faith,  but  written  in  so  blind  a 
fashion  that  I  could  hardly  read  it  myself,  much  less 
this  worthy  emissary  of  the  police  ;  so  he  returned 
it  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  and  turned  on  his 
heel,  leaving  me  to  push  down  my  trunk  and  fill  my 
night  bag  again  at  my  leisure. 

As  we  drew  nigh  the  frontier,  we  came  in  sight 
of  the  frowning  fortress  of  Belgrade.  I  asked  the 
zagal  to  let  me  know  when  we  were  crossing  the 
line.  This,  by  the  way,  was  one  of  the  most  rascal- 
like  fellows  I  ever  saw.  His  face  was  literally  hack- 
ed to  pieces  j  for  he  had  got  a  sabre  cut  in  the  war 


DEPARTURE    FROM    SPAIN.  333 

of  Independence  which  had  seamed  his  forehead 
and  cut  his  nose  in  twain,  so  that  the  lower  part 
looked  like  an  appendix  or  codicil  of  the  upper  ;  he 
had  lost  his  right  eye  in  some  other  adventure,  and 
had  received  a  bullet  wound  in  his  cheek  in  fighting 
against  the  Constitutionalists.  This  treacherous-look- 
ing fellow,  in  addition  to  his  functions  as  a  zagal,  was 
said  to  be  employed  as  a  spy.  The  conductor  was 
a  sharp-featured,  snuff-taking  little  Frenchman,  with 
a  skin  the  colour  of  parchment.  He  soon  manifested 
the  social  temperament  of  his  countrymen ;  for,  put- 
ting himself  in  the  coupe  beside  me  with  a  parrot 
cage  in  his  hand,  he  made  as  many  bows  as  a  diplo- 
matist, and  said,  that  as  Monsieur  appeared  quite 
solitary,  he  would  fain  entertain  him  with  his  hum- 
ble society.  This  led,  like  Gratiano's  conversation, 
to  an  infinite  deal  of  nothing,  in  which  his  wife  in 
Perpignan,  and  his  sweetheart  in  Junquera,  came  in 
for  a  tolerable  share. 

By  and  by  we  passed  two  stone  pillars  standing 
on  opposite  sides  of  the  road.  That  on  the  right 
hand  bore  the  well-carved  arms  of  Spain,  the  ram- 
pant lion  and  the  castle.  The  other  had  once  shown 
the  badge  of  the  Bourbons,  the  ill-fated  fleur-de-lis, 


334  SCENES    IN    SPAIN. 

now  so  utterly  defaced  that  I  could  only  surmise 
what  had  been  there  before  the  days  of  July.  "So," 
said  I  to  the  one-eyed  zagal,  "we  are  now  in  France." 
— "  Si,  Senor,"  he  replied.  «  Well,  then,  farewell  to 
Spain,  and  God  send  her  better  fortune — viva  la 
libertad  y  mueran  los  despotas."  The  conductor 
tipped  me  a  monitory  wink,  and  the  zagal  scowled 
and  glanced  fiercely  at  me  with  his  one  eye,  as  much 
as  to  say,  "  Dog  of  a  Liberal,  had  you  made  that 
exclamation  on  Spanish  ground,  how  nicely  the 
hangman  would  have  taken  a  ride  on  your  shoul- 
ders." 


THE    END* 


NEW-YORK: 

Printed  by  SCATCIIKRD  &  ADAMS, 
No.  38  Gold-street 


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